


Veritas

by Uniasus



Series: Veritas [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Albion, BAMF Merlin, Betrayal, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Destiny, Gen, Magic Revealed, Pre-Season/Series 04, Prophecy, Truth Spells, and I had to throw in a unicorn, but only loosely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the knights are trapped by a sorceress who makes a living selling secrets, Merlin's splits their loyalty. What ties are stronger - oaths or friendship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secret Seller

**Author's Note:**

> *Sigh* Started this fic awhile ago in the midst of watching the show and then watched the season 4 opening and lost it. T.T Needless to say, this is set before then. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but at 10K I'm only about halfway through, and I was too eager to get some type of feedback from people.

“I don’t think we should go in there,” Merlin spoke from the middle of the group of knights. He caught Lancelot’s eyes and the brunette frowned.

“It’s just an empty hall,” Arthur sighed.

Indeed it was. Complete with two open doors leading into it that just further made Merlin feel as if they were walking into a trap. Not that the strangely open doorway needed to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. The magic he could feel in the room was doing that enough.

“Still-“

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can see the whole room from here. There is nothing dangerous inside. It’s empty.”

“Then surely there is no reason to step in it,” Lancelot said.  
 

Merlin shot his friend a grin of thanks, but it was interrupted by the heavy feel of Arthur’s hand on each of their shoulders. “There is, because we are looking for a way out of this maze of a castle and I see several doors that might be the way to go.”

With a shove, he sent manservant and knight forward into the room.

Merlin froze, positive something magical was going to happen. But nothing did. Smiling in relief, he turned to see Lancelot giving him the same expression.

The other knights clanked in, Gwaine leading the way while Arthur followed and then Percival and Elyan. Merlin had started walking towards the farthest door when he heard a single word spoken out loud and felt magic slam down on him.

He wanted to whirl around and check on Arthur, but his feet wouldn’t move. They were stuck fast to the stone floor and judging by the grunts and curses from behind him the rest of the party was in a similar position.

The sound of a female voice filled the room for a second spell and Merlin’s head snapped to the source. There was a hallway along the top of the long wall tohis right; high enough that you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of it if you walked into the room with your gaze ahead, and there were no interruptions in his sight that made the waist high wall visible. If he hadn’t seen the woman, the sorceress, Merlin wouldn’t have noticed there was a hallway at all.

She finished her spell, eyes flashing gold, but nothing happened.

Merlin couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Not someone with real power then, for it to have failed. Her sticking their feet to the floor was a mistake.

Elyan was shouting about magic, Arthur was asking for a quick check in.

“Everyone alright? Did the magic do anything?”

Merlin ignored them, looking down at his feet with his head tilted away from the knights. He couldn’t risk a whispered spell, the room gave off a faint echo, but he felt his eyes flash gold and he was able to pivot his feet slightly towards the long wall.

“Merlin!”

His head snapped up at his name and he started to turn to meet Arthur’s eyes. He caught himself just in time – his sudden ability to move would not go unnoted – and settled for looking over his shoulder. He could just make out a blurry image of the prince.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“I know you don’t come when called, Merlin, but you’re five feet in front of me!“

“I find myself unable to move, so you’ll have to wait a bit longer for me to come over and pick up your bag.”

“Merlin.”

Though he couldn’t see it, the warlock could hear the frustration in the prince’s voice. But it no longer had the touch of worry that had laced Merlin’s name previously and for that Merlin was happy.

“Where did she go?” Elyan asked and the group feel silent.

There was no movement on the upper hallway and Merlin no longer felt the presence of magic like he had before. But he had never been very good at detecting those who had power – just in identifying active magic.

While the knights talked amongst themselves, putting together a plan, Merlin slowly inched himself around. Instead of facing the doors on the other side of the room with the knights all behind him, he was now facing the long wall with the open hallway and could see his friends out of the corner of his right eye.

Lancelot was closest to him, three swords lengths away, while the rest of the group was barely in the hall – a huddle of steel a few feet in front of the door with Arthur in the center.

From his new position, he found himself wary of all the closed doors leading to the hall. There were two to his left, and a third in the far right corner they hadn’t seen while in the hallway. It was from this door that the woman entered.

“Arthur.” He said and the room quieted.

Merlin wasn’t sure who could see her and who couldn’t, as most of them had been stuck with their back towards the open doorway. Elyan was at a three quarter turn towards the hidden door, Percival the same in the other direction. Arthur, and maybe Gwaine, could twist their necks enough.

"What?" Arthur said.

"She's here," Elyan answered and the entire group froze.

The woman was short, with thin brown hair. Merlin could see the streaks of grey in it, and combined with the wrinkles on her face he put her at around fifty years. Her clothes, while fine, were old and in need of a good wash.

"Who are you?" Elyan asked, raising his sword.

"Who are you?" She asked back and to Merlin’s surprise Elyan answered.

"Sir Elyan of Camelot." His mouth clicked shut and a tint of red bloomed on his check, embarrassed that he had answered so quickly. "I repeat, who are you?"

For an answer, she smiled and started walking through the clustered knights. "Who I am doesn't matter. What are you doing here?"

She placed at hand on Percival’s back and quickly dodged the fist he threw at her. Still, the tall knight answered.

"We heard reports of people entering this castle and not leaving. We came to investigate."

Like Elyan, his mouth shut quickly after he spoke.

Merlin frowned. None of the answers had been things to regret saying. They were truths they had shared on similar missions, names and reasons to be there. Though Merlin had to admit, they came out dryer and quicker than usual.

"Do you think I'm responsible for these disappearances?" She was looking at Arthur now, and he answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

Merlin could see his face. Arthur was surprised. At his answer? Or at his quickness to respond? Either way, something was wrong.

He caught Lancelot’s eye. The question there was obvious, _is magic involved?_ Slowly, Merlin nodded yes. What type of magic, he didn't know yet. But he guessed some type of compulsion.

"Are you? Responsible?" Arthur asked.

The woman smiled. "Yes and no. Let's say I have been involved in some of them."

"What do you want?" Gwain asked, twisting to the right in an effort to see the sorceress.

"Simply what everyone one else in the world wants. To make a living."

"So you sell spells then," Merlin guessed.

"Oh no." Merlin really didn't like her smile. "I sell secrets."

The sorceress stood in front of Arthur. "What is your name and what would you never tell your father?"

"I am Prince Arthur of Camelot. And I would never tell my father the tale of how I rescued Elyan from Cenred."

A truth spell. That had been the second spell that she had cast on them. Merlin felt his pulse speed up.

He could see the knowledge seep into the knights. The wide eyes, the dawning understanding. They all knew the tale and they all knew it was the result of Arthur lying to his father about a wager and his feelings towards a servant girl. It was not one shared with Uther, for various reasons.

The woman had weaved through the knights and was now standing at Lancelot’s side. Different questions she could ask filtered through Merlin’s mind, none of them good for him.

He looked at Merlin, eyes wide in panic. She could ask anything and there was nothing to prevent Lancelot from giving away Merlin's biggest secret. That he had magic. Merlin closed his eyes in acceptance. He couldn't do anything. Lancelot couldn't do anything. And if this is how the truth came out, so be it. He'd have to deal with the consequences later.

"What is something you haven't told these men before?"

That could be anything. Lancelot hadn’t told them his entire life story after all.

“Broke my toe when I was four. It was stepped on by a horse of a noble passing through.”

“What is a secret these men don’t know about him?” The sorceress pointed at Merlin, a scowl on her face. It was obvious she had expected something more important.

Merlin locked eyes with Lancelot and touched a finger to his left breast.

On him, it was silly, but on Lancelot’s left breast was the Pendragon signal embroidered on his cape. Merlin hoped his friend understood what he was trying say.

“Merlin’s the one who forged my proof of nobility, when I first went to Camelot to be a knight.”

Merlin let out a breath of relief. He wasn’t entirely sure Lancelot had kept that secret – they all knew he was not of noble birth and had pretended to be of such stature before – but how involved Merlin had been apparently had never been told.

Her attention fully on Merlin now, the woman stalked towards him. Merlin kept watching her, wanting to be aware of any magic she did. It interrupted his plans to use his own magic to set the others free slowly – Gwain and Arthur for sure could see his eyes – but he was okay with that for now.

“Broken a lot of laws, have you?”

“Yes.” The words came out of his throat like sharp stones, pricking his skin. He hadn’t been able to stop them. But he knew, based on Lancelot’s answer, he would have some ability to control what he said. It just would still have to answer the woman’s questions.

He didn’t have a whole lot of secrets that didn’t involve magic though.

“And who are you?”

She stood before him, arms crossed.

“Merlin. I’m Arthur’s manservant.”

“Ooo,” she cooed. “Servants are my favorite. They know the best secrets.”

She reached up to pat Merlin’s cheek and he leaned away from her. Lancelot, he could still see, was worried. Gwaine, lengths behind him, was making a kissy face.

“What’s your most recent secret?”

“One of the cooks and Sir Owen are sleeping together.”

“Really?” Arthur asked, even as Percival snorted.

“Which cook, Merlin?” Gwaine shouted.

“Mary.”

“The large one with short black hair?”

“Yes.”

Merlin ignored the snickers of the men. Really, it was a hilarious image. Well, Merlin rather tried to avoid thinking about how he came across them. Instead, he focused on how fast the answers had been forced out of his throat. There hadn’t been time to think of another answer to give, but then again, they had been very specific questions.

Even those Gwaine had asked.

It seemed like they commanded each other to speak the truth too. Not something he was happy about, but it did help him identify the spell.

“That’s not a secret to sell.” The sorceress circled Merlin and he had a hard time not moving in a circle to keep her in his sight. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know quite yet his feet were free.

“What is a secret about the royal family that other kingdoms would be interested in?”

He had a brief moment to watch the seriousness of the situation dawn on the knights’ faces. The small little secrets the spell had pulled out before hadn’t been too serious, but it was obvious this woman knew the right questions to ask. Merlin suspected she’d been gathering and selling secrets for many years.

At the moment, his main concern was the words he could feel climbing up his throat. It hurt, what was trying to come out of his mouth was not something his body wanted to say and it was doing its best to fight. He could feel the words on his tongue. _Uther Pendragon is mad and if his son were to die there is no one in Camelot to rule._

It was the most painful secret that he could speak and that’s why he thought it was pushing upwards so harshly. Merlin closed his eyes, thinking. What else could he tell? What else would other kingdoms find interesting, that wouldn’t hurt Camelot?

“Morgana is Uther’s blood.”

Most of those in Camelot knew this already, but they had kept the secret within the country’s borders. It escaping wouldn’t do much damage. If Morgana had planned on using her familiar ties to form a bond with another kingdom, it would have already happened.

“I like that one.”

Merlin watched as the sorceress walked towards the door Merlin had originally been heading towards. Behind it was indeed a hallway. He watched as the woman raised her hand to levitate a table with paper, pen, and ink.

Keeping his eyes on the woman, Merlin angled his left fingers towards Lancelot’s feet. He called his magic to undo the spell that held the knight in place, knowing that he had seconds until the woman turned back towards him. Whether he was successful or not, Merlin didn’t know or have the time to check. The sorceress was setting the desk and its instruments down in front of Merlin. As he watched, she scribbled his most recent secret down.

Finished, she looked back up at Merlin. “I like you. I can tell you have a lot of secretes to share.”

“Not really.”

“Merlin! I forbid you to say anything else!”

“You prat! She’s got magic! I can’t help it.”

“Do you always speak to the prince like that?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

“And you allow it?” This question was directed at Arthur, who seemed more bewildered then anything at being asked it.

“Obviously.”

The knights all gave a sign of amusement, from Gwaine’s chuckle to Percival’s one sided smile.

“Why?”

“I’m not quite sure myself.”

Merlin squinted at Arthur. The spell hadn’t forced him to give a reason – be it _amusement_ or _I like it_ or something sappy like the _he’s my friend_ Merlin knew could be a reason deep in Arthur’s many layers. He had seen hints of all those reasons in his interactions with Arthur these past four and half years, but never had Arthur said them aloud. Never admitted them.

There was another bit of the spell learned – it only forced truths that you consciously knew.

With a scoff, the woman turned back to Merlin. He stared her down.

“What is Arthur’s greatest weakness?”

There was a choking sound that echoed through the room – Merlin didn’t know if it came from him or Arthur. Words were clawing their way up his throat, _Gwen, Uther, his friends_ , and Merlin did his best to keep them from leaving his lips. He kept his mouth shut, bit the inside of his cheek, and he desperately thought of something else to say.

“He doesn’t always listen to sound advice.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t say anything else.

The woman was staring at him, frowning, and he didn’t like the look he was getting.

She turned to the rest of the group and addressed them as a whole. “What is Arthur’s greatest weakness?”

The answers came quickly. Names. “Gwen.” “Uther.” “Us.” “Merlin.” That last one surprised him, but Merlin let it go. He was more concerned with the multiple pairs of eyes on him.

His answer had been different. And he knew it had taken longer to be pried out of him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lancelot shuffle a tiny bit towards the sorceress.

Merlin couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you smiling, servant?”

The magic, like before, forced him to answer. But he thought he knew the trick of it now. “Because I saw something that makes me happy.”

“What makes you happy?”

“A day off.”

“What, specifically, made you smile a second ago?”

The more direct question caught him off guard, the words forcing themselves faster out of his mouth. Merlin said them one at a time, to give him the chance to change them. “Because I saw a friend move.”

On cue, Elyan, Arthur, and Percival all waved their arms in the air. Gwaine bounced up and down, lifting a tiny bit onto his toes. The woman scowled at them and Lancelot inched that much closer to her.

“Why does their movement make you happy?”

“It’s proof of the weakness of your magic. It’s-“ the words stopped. He had wanted to say _It’s proof that its wearing_ off but his inability to say it made him feel like it was a lie.

Interesting.

His mind flipped through the truth spells he knew, trying to match them up with how to cancel them. Can’t say a lie, can’t say a truth you haven’t personally, openly, acknowledged. Can answer anything as long as it’s true.

The woman stared at him and Merlin stared back. Just as he was putting the pieces together, he knew she was doing the same.

He knew she was now much more interested in him then secrets he could tell.

“What do you not want your prince to you about you?” She smiled cruelly, eager to learn more about him just as much as she was eager to see his relationships under strain.

Merlin’s mind lept to his magic. He did not want Arthur to know of his abilities. Not now. Not like this. Not, perhaps, for many years. Yet he could feel the desire to tell bursting in his chest. The words were climbing up his throat with knives, digging the blades into the back of his tongue as they pulled themselves into his mouth.

Indeed, there was real blood in his mouth as he grit his teeth together. Whether it was from the truth spell or biting his own cheek and tongue, Merlin didn’t know. But when words were finally forced from him, they were proceeded a spit of blood.

Merlin refused to look at Arthur, even as he said the words he knew would hurt him.

“I lied when he attacked Uther, after we returned from seeing Morgause. What Ygraine’s spirit said was truth.”

In the edge of his vision, he saw heads whip towards the prince.

Merlin hated himself for spilling that secret, but it was the first one he had thought of that would result in minimal damage. There was time for Arthur to cool down on their return to Camelot and he would never attack his father in his current state. The other knights also had no idea what Merlin was talking about.

“What did Ygraine say?”

“Merlin! I forbid you from saying anything else!”

At that, Merlin did turn his gaze to Arthur. The prince was pale, horror and fear in his eyes. The knights around him weren’t better, though they also looked a tad interested. Who didn’t like knowing other’s secrets after all?

“I am doing my best, sire. But in case you couldn’t tell, we’re all enchanted.” Merlin rolled his eyes, using a sleeve to wipe off some of the blood he felt on his lip. Head high, he gave the woman an answer. “One of the things she said was that she loved her son.”

The sorceress screeched. “How are you doing this?”

She grabbed Merlin by the chin, even as he leaned away from her.

“Will power.”

“Hardly. It’s something more.” She turned Merlin’s face sharply to one side and then another before pushing aside his scarf to pull down the collar of his shirt. He was rather pleased to hear Gwaine give a shout of protest.

“Where is your tattoo?” Not waiting for an answer, she was already lifting up the sleeves of Merlin’s jacket and shirt.

Merlin was confused. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

“Only Druid folk can resist me, though I’ve never seen one as successful at it as you.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, and she stepped back. After all, he had spoken the truth when he said he lacked a tattoo.

“But you’re not a Druid, are you?”

“No.”

Panic was fluttering in his chest. Merlin did not like this line of questioning at all. Quickly, he glanced at Lancelot. His friend was closer now, not quite in striking range, but almost.

“Yes or no, do you have magic?”

It was a simple yes or no question. There was no way to word things in any other way.

Lancelot was pulling out his sword.

Merlin swallowed blood and she smiled at him. She knew the answer was yes.

“How much magic do you have?”

Merlin honestly couldn’t say himself. How did you measure magic to begin with? Pleadingly, he looked at Lancelot in an effort to get him to hurry up and knock the sorceress out.

She caught his look. In a second, she had whirled around and pushed Lancelot just as he was about to strike her down. With a yell, he crashed to his feet inches from Gwaine. Quick as lightening, Lancelot was on his feet again, but the sorceress barked the words of command that stuck his feet to the floor. His forward momentum sent him crashing to the stone in a painful face plant.

Taking advantage of Lancelot’s distraction, Merlin looked around for a weapon. If he didn’t use magic, there was a chance this would blow over like previous times he had been accused of sorcery. Alas, the only weapons nearby were the writing utensils on the desk in front of him and his fists. Neither of which would do him much good.

It didn’t matter. Despite her age, the woman was fast and her grip strong. Even while Lancelot was falling forward she had her hand around Merlin’s neck.

“He didn’t free himself. How much magic do you have?” she snarled.

A direct question, asked a second time, that didn’t allow him to tailor his answer as much as he would like. Still, Merlin fought to keep silent, even biting through his lip for the effort.

“As much, as much as was prophesied by the druids.” Merlin could taste the blood dripping from the gums of each tooth.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on his friends’ faces. It also helped him concentrate on breathing. The woman’s hand was tightening and Merlin found his fingers prying at her own. He used only one hand, the other reaching towards Lancelot. His friend was still the closest, and if Merlin could free his feet again-

“The only druid prophesy relating to a sorcerer is that of Emrys. Are you Emrys?”

Merlin gasped for air, unable to fight off the truth spell as well as he wished. And even though his voice was weak, he knew the room would carry it so that all the knights present would hear it.

“Several druids have called me that.”

She let go of his neck as if shocked. Merlin dropped to a knee sucking in air.

“You can’t be. There’s no way _Emrys_ would be from Camelot. Work for a _Pendragon_.”

“Technically, I’m not from Camelot.”

“He chained you somehow, bound your magic to his will-“

“No!”

“Merlin, what in the king’s name are you going on about?” Arthur shouted at the pair of them.

“Something I’ll tell you later.”

“Merlin!”

“Princess, now is really not the best time.”

“Why are you not ruling as you should be?” the sorceress asked.

Merlin had to pause at the question. Not because he had to think of an answer, he knew that already, but to determine how much to tell. How likely was it that Arthur and the knights would let this all ago, forget about the forced confession of magic? Not very.

Absently, he noticed that the spell allowed him to think of an answer if he had no intentions of refusing to do so.

“You aren’t the first person to ask me that, and I’ve had several powerful sorcerers ask me to join them. But I have no desire to do that. I’d be rubbish are ruling. Besides, I’ve been told by a friend my destiny is different.”

He stood as he spoke, using his magic at the same time to send her crashing through the desk behind her and into the far wall. Merlin ignored the gasps from the knights and Gwaine’s dry ‘that’s why he never asks for a torch when we split up’.

Merlin felt a small comfort that Gwaine at least wasn’t upset by the fact that he had magic.

He refused to look at Arthur.

Still on her back, the sorceress sent a wave of power towards Merlin. He grunted as he hit the wall, ignoring Lancelot’s shout of concern. The woman was getting up, hands extended towards the group and chanting. Merlin paled at the words. Even after reading several magical books, his knowledge of spells wasn’t great. He didn’t know exactly what this one would do. But he caught a couple of words, linked it to the ones he knew.

Fire. She was going to send fire at the knights. She was going to burn them alive.

It was the one death he feared above all others and he would never wish it on anyone.

He looked towards the knights, refusing to focus on any of them aside from Lancelot. His friend gave him a pleading look, eyes darting to his feet and then back up to Merlin’s face.

Merlin concentrated on freeing Lancelot’s and once that was done began the shield spell to protect the knights. Slowly, he stood up, sending his magic to form a dome around them centered on Arthur.

“Merlin! What are you doing?” Arthur shouted, but Merlin ignored him to continue the spell, telling the sorceress’s magic he’d answer as soon as the spell was done.

He couldn’t look at the knights – at Arthur’s surprise, Percival’s panic, Elyan’s shock, Gwaine’s…was that sadness? It didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping them safe. Once he had taken care of the secret-seller, they could…they could do something about Merlin’s magic no longer being a secret. But that would be later.

Lancelot’s eyes went wide as he recognized the spell, Merlin had used it between them before on previous missions. He attempted to take a step forward and finding his feet free from magic charged forward towards the sorceress, sword drawn.

The spell started to solidify around the stuck knights just as Lancelot crossed the border of the spell. The sorceress released the fire that had been building up between his hands, splitting in two so that half the flame snapped at Arthur and the other half at Merlin. Merlin let the spell hit his shoulder while he said the last word of the shield spell, just in time to see flames hit his magic and flow harmlessly around the stuck knights.

He yelled in pain, the fire eating away at his sleeve. There were shouts of his name, from whom he didn’t know or care. In a panic, Merlin yanked off his scarf and used it to smother the flames on his shoulder. The skin throbbed from the burn, but at least the flames were gone. Gaius could look at it later.

Merlin looked up to take a quick stock of the situation. The knights were no longer stuck to the floor and were now pounding on Merlin’s shield in an effort to get out. Lancelot was squaring off against the sorceress, the woman holding her right arm. Merlin could see blood dripping from a sword wound.

“Duck!” Merlin called out, taking control of the broken pieces of the desk and hurtling them towards the sorceress. Lancelot dropped to the floor. Part of the table top hit the woman in the stomach. A table leg clipped her head, knocking her out.

Lancelot lifted his head and smiled at Merlin. “About time you pulled your weight in this fight.”

“Shut up, Lance.” Merlin walked towards him.

“Just saying, you’ve taken out dangerous magical creatures before with a single strike and you let an old woman get two hits on you?” Lancelot smiled as he pushed himself to his feet, but his eyes drifted towards Merlin’s shoulder.

“You know as well as I do this situation is different than others.”

Lancelot’s looked over Merlin’s shoulder at the still trapped knights and then over to the sorceress unmoving on the ground near his feet.

Merlin understood his frown. They had worked like this together before, swords and sorcery taking down magical creatures or toppling sorcerers who had posed a threat to Camelot and her people. But this woman hadn’t been violent, not at first, and there was no way to prove her involvement in the area’s disappearances.

If it she had captured anyone else, they probably would have walked away unharmed aside from the heavy weight of guilt in their chest of spilling secrets. Some sorcerers Merlin had managed to convince that how they were using magic was wrong. This one – she had pulled out too many secrets.

Logically, Merlin knew what she had forced himself and the knights to say could never escape this room. He hated killing other magic users – there were too few of them already and it fuelled contention between him and others over the prophesy of Emrys and what he was supposed to be doing. It didn’t stop him from doing it however. Merlin would always, always, put Arthur’s safety and goals before anything else. Even his own morals.

Merlin sighed and Lancelot looked at him knowingly.

“Do you want me to?”

Yes, Merlin did, but he shook his head. He was very aware of the knights pounding on the shield behind them, their muffled shouts. Magic was illegal in Camelot and he had no idea how Arthur would react, but keeping it a secret and letting it go wasn’t something Merlin believed the prince could do. Merlin had to show where his loyalties where and killing the woman at his feet would do it.

Still, he hesitated. Killing in battle was one thing. This was another. He didn’t want this on Lancelot’s conscience.

There was a twang of a crossbow and Merlin screamed as it bit into his thigh. A man had appeared at the upper walkway, crossbow braced on the half stone wall. Where he had been hiding and why he didn’t help the sorceress before Merlin didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. With a wave of his hand, he pulled the man over the wall to send him crashing to the flagstones.

As his magic rose to his fingertips, pain exploded outward from the arrow wound. Already on his knees from the original hit, Merlin found himself crumpling sideways to hit his head on the cold stone floor.

He thought he heard Arthur call out is name even through the shield before things went dark.

* * *

Arthur watched the battle with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, even as he pounded and shouted at whatever Merlin had made to trap them. There was time to take in everything he was seeing later, and what it meant, but at the moment his brain could only absorb the information to process later.

Arthur was born of magic. Merlin was a sorcerer. Apparently one of prophesy. Who may or may not be powerful enough to take down Camelot. And Lancelot, Lancelot knew. There was no other way to explain how he seemed comfortable fighting alongside Merlin and his magic. And that was a revelation too – that Lancelot and Merlin had been fighting together like this for most of the past few months and no one had noticed.

Arthur shook his head of emotions and watched Gwaine throw a shoulder against the clear wall. The fire the sorceress had thrown at him had hit it, arching up and over them before spreading out and dying. It wasn’t very big; Arthur could touch the top of it with his fingers and it’s circumference wasn’t much beyond the tight circle they had been standing in.

“Merlin, you let us out of here right now!” the brunette shouted.

Merlin, of course, ignored him, sending the desk crashing into the sorceress and knocking her out. Arthur couldn’t hear what Lancelot and Merlin were saying, and even if it he could he was too preoccupied with how close the two of them were standing, how at ease they were with this situation, how quickly Merlin had cast spells and warned Lancelot.

Now that the fight was over, Arthur could feel the red of anger creep into his cheeks.

“Up top!” Percival yelled and Arthur’s head snapped up to the walkway above the room. A man had appeared with a loaded crossbow. Percival and Elyan pounded on Merlin’s magic harder, shouted Merlin’s and Lancelot’s names, but the two didn’t notice.

The man aimed his weapon, not at Lancelot, but at Merlin who went down to one knee as he was hit. Merlin used magic to pull the man to the floor and Lancelot shoved his sword into the man’s belly before turning back to Merlin.

“Merlin!” Arthur felt himself call out, the cry echoed by Gwaine.

Merlin was writhing on the ground, the arrow shaft sticking from his thigh glowing white. The spell had dulled sound, but Arthur could hear Merlin’s screams raise in intensity as the seconds went on.

As they watched, Lancelot dropped to his knees next to Merlin and yanked out the arrow shaft. Merlin went limp and after a moment of contemplation Lancelot jabbed the arrow into the sorceress’s throat. The woman jerked, back arching off the floor as the arrow glowed white again for a few seconds before turning dull. She gurgled.

“Merlin, Merlin. Come on, wake up.” Lancelot was patting Merlin’s face, but the other man didn’t respond.

“Lance! Let me out!” Gwaine shouted, even as he ran into the wall with his shoulder again.

Arthur heard the distinct sound of a crack.

Lancelot’s head shot up to look at Gwaine. “I can’t, I don’t know how.”

They heard Lancelot perfectly, as if the wall between them was gone, and Arthur suspected that the spell Merlin had cast was fading. Lancelot looked at them, back to Merlin, and then flicked his gaze to Arthur.

“Lancelot, you stay right there until this spell is gone. And then I’m going to drag both of you to Camelot, tied behind the horses if I have to.” Arthur couldn’t help the anger that slipped into his voice. Merlin – a sorcerer! Lancelot – knowing and helping him! He felt like wringing their necks, tossing them into the dungeon and not sending anyone down with food.

It must have shown on his face because Lancelot did the opposite. He sheathed his sword and the lifted Merlin up, throwing the servant, the liar, over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Lancelot said. “I truly am. But Merlin’s the bravest man I know and I gave him my loyalty before I gave it to you.”

He turned and ran out of the room.

“Lance! Lance! Take me with you!” Gwaine threw himself at the magic wall and Arthur heard it crack again. “Lance! Merlin!”

Arthur caught Gwaine’s bicep as he backed up for another charge at the wall. “Did I just hear you say you’d commit treason for a sorcerer?”

“No. I’d commit treason for Merlin, you bastard.” Gwaine shoved his shoulder into Arthur’s gut and both men went down.

Arthur flipped them, landing a punch of Gwaine’s jaw in the process. Gwaine responded by bucking his hips, rocking Arthur’s center off balance to the right, and then slamming his armored forearm into the bottom of Arthur’s rib cage. Arthur grunted, hand reaching for Gwaine’s throat, when strong arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him up and back till Arthur stood on his feet. He wriggled left and right, but he knew from experience that even slick with sweat there was no way he was escaping Percival’s grip.

Elyan puled Gwaine to his feet. He wasn’t big enough to trap the other knight’s arms, but he stood between the brunette and Arthur with a hand on Gwaine’s chest. “Easy,” he said, looking between the two men.

Gwaine looked tempted to launch himself at Arthur again. Percival didn’t release Arthur either.

“We good?” Percival asked. Arthur could feel the words rumble in the chest against his back.

“No!” Gwaine ground out, but he didn’t move.

“Look.” Elyan lowered his hand, keeping an eye on Gwaine but speaking to the group. “We just had a bit of a shock, but now is not the time for rash decisions.”

“How is running after my best friend a rash decision? Did you not see how many hits Merlin took? Lance won’t be able to take care of him himself.”

“He’s a sorcerer! He doesn’t deserve help!” Arthur shot back.

“Don’t you dare say that!”

“He’s lied to us for how long? And now he’s trapped us here in this…this strange bubble! Obviously Merlin is not to be trusted! He’s a traitor to the crown! There’s no telling what else he’s done. What if he’s working for Morgana?”

“You don’t really mean that, Arthur,” Elyan said.

“I do! Morgana bade her time, sorcerers are patient. He’s just…just waiting. I know it.”

“Oh, because someone who wants you dead would really follow you into the Perilous Lands. Merlin could have left you to die there, you know.”

“I was doing fine on my own!” But the words sounded hollow even to Arthur’s own ears. The Perilous Lands was only one time, but how many others had Merlin done something for Arthur’s benefit? Within his first few months working for Arthur, the prince already knew Merlin’s loyalty went beyond that of most court servants.

He had never figured out why and now that gap of knowledge seemed wider than before.

Slowly, Percival loosened his grip on Arthur and Elyan stepped to the side. Gwaine sniffed and purposefully looked away from Arthur, walking to the edge of Merlin’s spell. To everyone’s surprise, he wasn’t stopped by a wall of magic.

Gwaine took off at a run.

“Gwaine!” Percival called after him and Arthur could see the tall knight waver. Percival and Lancelot had travelled together before being knighted, but apparently their bond was not enough to break Percival’s oath to his liege lord. Arthur was pleased someone understood how the world was supposed to work.

Elyan walked over to the dead man and sorceress, Arthur and Percival following him. The smith knight pried the arrow out of the sorceress’s throat with a soft hum. “Thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“This is a solid metal bolt.”

“What?” Curious, Arthur and Percival both leaned over Elyan’s shoulder as he kneeled next to the body. Indeed, the arrow in his hand was a single piece of iron, from the arrowhead to the thin fletches. Arthur tried to ignore the sight of blood on the head and shaft. The force behind a metal bolt would be more than one with a typical wooden one. He wouldn’t be surprised if it hit bone and kept going. Lancelot had struggled to pull it out of Merlin’s thigh.

In a far corner of his mind, he wondered if Merlin’s bone had shattered or broken.

“Who would make a bolt out of solid metal? Heavy and expensive.” Percival said.

Elyan pursed his lips, looking at the sorceress and the paper lying next to her on which she had written her secrets. “Sometimes,” he said, wiping the blood off on his trousers, “blacksmiths are asked for custom orders. Once or twice I’ve been asked to make something and then scratch symbols into the metal before it cools. They usually are something to do with magic.”

He passed the arrow over his shoulder to Arthur who took it. Elyan had cleaned most of the blood off, but as Arthur ran his fingers over the shaft he felt divots he hadn’t expected to feel on a smooth piece of metal. Closer examination proven them to be symbols he could make out because the depressions were full of blood. On the head itself was a larger shape, one reminiscent of an ‘s’ with extensive curls on either end and a line that bisected it on an angle, imprinted on both sides. The symbol was deep, the edges rough, and impossible to miss.

Arthur handed it over to Percival who took his turn running his fingers over the head and shaft of the arrow.

“You think someone made that arrow with magic.”

“No, any decent smith can make that.” Elyan pushed himself to his feet and turned around to face Arthur. “And I don’t claim to be an expert in magic or anything like that, but certain shapes can hold certain spells, or so I’ve heard. This here, someone magiced it. And since it’s made from iron, you can guess what for.”

“Iron?” Percival looked up from the arrow with a frown.

“Magic is said to be weak when presented with iron. A lot of stories have creature of magic being trapped by iron shackles.”

“Stories. Myths.” Arthur shook his head. “If there was any truth to them, Uther would have clad every sorcerer in iron but he didn’t. Rope worked just fine.”  
Elyan frowned. “Maybe it has to have these marks first. But the way it glowed? Just as Merlin used magic to bring that guy crashing down? That’s a bolt made for use against sorcerers.”

Arthur looked at the man on the ground. His clothes were stained from the sword wound in his gut, but they weren’t peasant wear and in good quality. A merchant, maybe. Arthur guessed he had come to kill the sorceress, but arrived on the scene to see Merlin use his magic to take her down and targeted him instead. It was a logical, sensible choice and something Arthur would have done in a similar position.

Merlin had serious power.

Hadn’t he said something to the sorceress about offers to rule?

Unbidden, the dragon came to mind. Had Arthur not dealt the killing blow at all? He had taken Merlin’s word for it, but it was entirely possible Merlin had struck it with magic and let Arthur believe the kill went to the prince. And the skeleton army – Arthur knew now that Morgana hadn’t prevented it. He suspected Merlin had a hand in that instead.

Arthur clenched his fists. When they found Merlin, he was going to beat the answers out of his manservant.

He snatched the bolt from Percival’s hands, sticking it between his chain mail and his sword belt. Gaius, he suspected, would know the symbols.

 _Gaius_.

Had he known about Merlin? He must have, yes? But no, Gaius had known Merlin for just as long as Arthur had and if Arthur hadn’t noticed then why would have Gaius? He didn’t want to tell the physician about Merlin’s betrayal, but he wanted even less to return to Camelot without him tied like a hog.  
A sorcerer on the loose was the worst thing that could happen. Especially one who knew as much about Camelot as Merlin did. Even if Arthur was sure Merlin was in no condition to fight, he was less sure about Merlin’s willingness to attack the citadel.

Arthur ground his teeth together. He had to go after Lancelot and Merlin, hunt them down like any other escaped criminal.

“Let’s get the horses.”

“Yes, sire.” Elyan and Percival said, jogging behind him to keep up with his long strides.

Arthur figured Gwaine would have ridden out hot on Lancelot’s trail, and Arthur could follow his, but it didn’t turn out that way. The ruined castle was full of turns and it took longer than he wanted to find their way back to the front courtyard where they had left the horses.

It was there Arthur found Gwaine, standing on top of the gate and look towards the horizon. Of the horses, there was no sign.

“Gwaine?” Percival called up to the knight. He got a grunt in answer.

“Where are the horses?”

They waited a beat and then Gwaine sighed. “I think Lance untied them all and slapped their rears. There’s hoof prints all around the gate and what looks to be a group of saddled horses on the edge of the nearby grove. Can’t tell if they’re ours. But I can’t see riders. They’re gone.”

The last sentence was the saddest Arthur had ever heard Gwaine sound.

“Sire?”

Arthur turned to Percival.

“What are we going to do, sire?”

What Arthur wanted to do was to go thundering after Lancelot and Merlin to bring them to heel. The law was the law, as his father said, and both of them were in violation of it. But Lancelot’s face when he had picked up Merlin and apologized for leaving, it had plead for Arthur to understand. Elyan had the right of it before – he was not in the right headspace to deal with those two. He didn’t know what the proper thing to do was.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going after them.” Gwaine joined them back in the courtyard.

“No.” Arthur commanded. “We’re going back to Camelot.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Yes Gwaine, you are.”

“You’re going to have to make me.”

Arthur drew his sword and bared down on Gwaine. The other knight leaned back, footing unstable in his scramble to get away and Arthur took advantage of his open side. He slammed the flat of his sword against Gwaine’s ribs and while the other man sucked in air banged his pommel on Gwaine’s head. The knight dropped like a sack of flour.

“Arthur!” Elyan shouted.

“Relax. I’m just not letting him go off on his own. Percival, grab him. Let’s see if we can find the horses.”

“We’re not going after them?”

Arthur walked out the castle gates, the doors long since gone from the peasants needing wood. The earth around them was beat up by hooves, but there was nothing to show two horses taking off loaded with men and supplies. If Merlin had woken up, no doubt he had the power to hide their tracks.

“I said no, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sire.” Elyan nodded in submission.

The horses Gwaine had spotted near the grove were indeed theirs. All four of them had been stripped of supplies. No food, no bedrolls, no rope or even a whetstone. Arthur should have been happy that at least they had flint for a fire. Two days out from Camelot, they would have to rough it in the woods or find someone to put them up. Doable options, but hunting Merlin and Lancelot, even if that was Arthur’s plan, was out of the question with what was in their saddle bags.

Gwaine, at this point, was awake again and searching the area for tracks. Arthur glanced at him while checking the saddles and bridles of the horses, but it didn’t seem as if he found anything.

Arthur itched for a hunt. Itched to chase the two men, the two traitors. But a year of ruling Camelot as regent stayed his hand. _Understand, please_ , Lancelot’s look had said. Arthur couldn’t do that until he was no longer so angry.

He mounted his horse with a command for the knights to do the same. Elyan did so without hesitation, but Gwaine was still looking for broken branches. As Arthur watched, Percival approached him and whispered in Gwaine’s ear. Whatever he said, it was enough to have Gwaine grumpily stomp to his mare and put his foot in the stirrup.

Arthur nodded his thanks to Percival and the four of them took off at fast trot.


	2. Mutual Acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance likes to talk a lot. There will be three chapters now instead of two because he took up so many words.
> 
> Underlined bits are inline arthur notes, for those who are interested. I have them as hover text, so hovering your mouse of them will reveal the note.

Lancelot watched Arthur and the rest of the knights mill in the courtyard below. It had taken him longer than he wanted to find the horses again and he knew that aside from the grove of woods to the west the flat land around the castle wouldn’t hide him and Merlin. Instead, he had taken the supplies from the other horses, sent them cantering free, and led his and Merlin’s mounts to a small room on the other side of the castle.

Merlin was there now, his scarf wrapped around his shoulder burn while a piece of Lancelot’s tunic was around the servant’s thigh, propped against a table and locked in the room with the horses. Once the knights left, once they were out of sight, he would take Merlin somewhere safe.

He watched Arthur knock out Gwaine and winced. Lancelot knew Merlin and Gwaine were close, but he hadn’t realized their friendship was _this_ strong. Strong enough to overcome the same betrayal that Arthur was also experiencing and didn’t look to be in any condition to overcome.

Lancelot remembered hearing the argument between Arthur and Uther through the hall doors during the events surrounding his first knighting. How you couldn’t trust a man who lied to you, and how long had Merlin been lying to Arthur? And not just about his magic. The sorceress had pulled a secret out of Merlin that involved Arthur’s mother.

He knew Arthur. Heard Merlin go on and on about how great a man Arthur was and the kingdom was going to be. Lancelot had seen hints of it himself in this year of service. The prince easily overlooked station, was loyal, considerate, kind. If Arthur had found out Merlin’s secret a year ago, Lancelot wouldn’t be worried about Merlin’s safety. But this past year, with the magical attack on Camelot and Uther magic-mad in his chambers, Arthur’s views on magic were strong.

It was a threat to Camelot.

How many times had Lancelot seen Merlin talk a fellow sorcerer out of attacking? And how many times had he since him flinch when he had killed a magic user in battle? How many times had he turned away from an execution, hiding himself in his room pale and shaking?

 _Druids are the worse,_ Merlin had admitted. _Their thoughts are sent out into the air and I can hear them. I have burned with every Druid Uther and Arthur have condemned these past four years._

Arthur had been shocked in the face of Merlin’s magic an hour ago. Almost blank. Lancelot knew the face of a man processing information, but he wholly expected Arthur to slip into anger fast. Merlin would crumple in the face of such fury. If Arthur decided to tie Merlin to the stake, Lancelot knew the warlock would go pliantly. He was too loyal for anything else.

Lancelot couldn’t let that happen. Taking Merlin and running was saving his life.

The knights were gone, but Lancelot waited a few moments before turning back to the room he had left Merlin and the horses in. He arrived to see Merlin’s mare lipping at the man’s hair, to no reaction. Enough blood had seeped into the bandages so that they were no longer crimson but the dark, wet, red of cherries.

Lancelot cursed has he shoved the mare’s muzzle aside to tap Merlin’s cheek. He had to outright slapped Merlin before he stirred, but the hazy blue of his eyes was the best thing Lancelot had seen all day.

“Merlin, you’re the doctor. How do I stop the bleeding?”

“P-pressure first. Then ground pepper.”

Pepper? It didn’t matter, if Merlin said it would work. No wonder Merlin always had an ample supply of it, more than he ever used in cooking. Lancelot pulled out a cape from the supplies he stole, wadding it up and holding it firm against Merlin’s leg.

“Clean, cold water,” Merlin mumbled as his eyes drifted closed, “For the burn.”

Keeping one hand on the fabric on Merlin’s thigh, Lancelot used the other to peel back the scarf tied around Merlin’s left shoulder. It wasn’t bleeding, like he had thought, but instead the pus of popped blisters was soaking the fabric. Lancelot had to tug to pull the scarf free from where it had stuck to skin.

The mare snuffed at Merlin’s shoulder and again Lancelot pushed her nose away.

Next to Merlin was the pile of supplies Lancelot had stolen from the others. He shifted so that he was kneeling on Merlin’s thigh. Merlin shouted in pain before passing out, but it was worth it for the ability to grab a water skin without letting up on applying pressure.

Lancelot opened the skin to wet Merlin’s scarf and used the red fabric to dab at Merlin’s raw skin, mirroring the times he’d seen Merlin or Gaius do the same.

Eventually, the thigh wound stopped bleeding. Lancelot bandaged both of Merlin’s injuries again and lifted him into the saddle, tying Merlin to the leather. The extra supplies he had taken from the knights he had earlier sorted and selected from. The question was, Lancelot thought as he led the horses out of the room, pulling Merlin forward so his head didn’t hit the doorway, where should they go?

Lancelot paused at the castle gate, looking west towards Camelot. Arthur had gone that way, no doubt. And he dared not head east towards Ealdor because that was expected.

He looked over at Merlin, still slumped over his mare, before mounting his own gelding. What they needed was someone who could cure Merlin and considering the magical nature of the arrow that had embedded itself in the servant’s leg, Merlin needed a magical healing.

Where that could be found, Lancelot had no idea.

Except...hadn’t Merlin mentioned something before about magic in the Valley of the Fallen Kings? It was perhaps two days beyond Camelot, but at the slow pace they would be forced to take Lancelot guessed it would take six days. It was longer than Lancelot would have liked and would push Merlin to his limits. Maybe a local herbalist could at least help while they travelled.

With a nod to himself, Lancelot urged the horses forward into a fast walk. Merlin barely stirred and he took the initiative to push the horses on past dusk. It was a slow plod and Lancelot kept jerking himself awake, but he wanted to cross as many leagues as he could.

They were two hours into the Forest of Balor before Lancelot pulled his mount to a halt. He was tired and it had been awhile since he had last checked on Merlin’s wounds. There was a small flat area within sight of a rocky stream bed, a good place to rest. Lancelot laid out a bedroll, gently laid Merlin on it, and then set about preparing camp. Gathering water, picking up firewood, preparing a broth and digging out the pepper. Lancelot wasn’t sure how helpful putting pepper on the wounds was, or if he was even doing it correctly, but Merlin hadn’t woken up since the room in the old castle. He was paler, sweating with a light fever.

Lancelot placed a damp cloth over his friend’s forehead. “Please, Merlin, please.”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, for Merlin to get better, to wake up, or just not get any worse. Any of them would do.

Merlin’s burn didn’t seem to be getting any worse, but the arrow wound in his thigh didn’t look good. From knee to hip, the skin was a deep purple bruise and hot to touch. Merlin’s leg had swelled, Lancelot had cut a slit up the leg, and every time the bandage was changed it was bloodstained and stiff with discharge.

Lancelot managed to rouse Merlin for a few minutes when dinner was ready, leaning the other against his chest and helping him eat. He hadn’t seemed to realize what was happening – didn’t ask where they were or what Arthur’s response to his magic was.

That was the most worrying thing. Merlin always thought of Arthur. For him to not be made Lancelot want to pack up the horses and set off again. He knew though it was a bad idea, all of them, men and horses, needed rest. Come first light, they would set off again.

Plan of action made, Lancelot laid out his own roll and blanket next to Merlin’s. He placed a hand on the warlock’s chest, just so he could keep feeling his friend breathe. If anything changed, he wanted to know right away.

Lancelot awoke a few hours later to light behind his eyelids. He didn’t feel as if it should be dawn just yet, based on how tired his limbs still felt, and so jerked awake quickly, rolling to his knees and placing a hand on his sword hilt.

It wasn’t dawn. The light came from Merlin who was glowing blue.

That wasn’t right. Merlin’s magic was gold.

He brushed a hand over Merlin’s arm and was surprised to find the blue glow disappear in the wake of his palm. It wasn’t Merlin glowing, but rather something blue hovering over him.

Lancelot brushed a few of them into his palm and brought to them to his eyes. Small blue spheres with the sheen of soap bubbles hovered just above his skin, giving off warmth like a stone at noon. It didn’t hurt and looking at Merlin the bubbles weren’t doing anything. He was still feverish, still gaunt and pale, though the blue light gave him the appearance of being under water.

Glancing around, Lancelot noticed the small blue lights were coming into the clearing from the stream, congregating on Merlin. There were other lights, larger and more solid blue, in the trees. Most strange of all was the way the way entire forest seemed to glow – a faint golden outline to the trunks, leaves, stones, and grass.

Magic.

Now that he was aware of it, Lancelot could feel the hum, the energy on his skin and how the whole clearing seemed more alive than it had been hours ago. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. There was - a pulse. In the air. Faint, steady. No, not steady, as he realized listening to it. It was slowing down.

Panicked, Lancelot opened his eyes to check on Merlin. He looked the same, but something made him place a finger on Merlin’s neck to check his heartbeat.

It really was wondrous, that the forest was so in tune with Merlin that it beat with his heart. But not enough to cover his worry for Merlin’s health. Not with the pulse slowly.

They had to leave. Merlin needed help. Now.

Lancelot scrambled to pack. Pot, bedrolls. He debated about rewrapping Merlin’s thigh and shoulder, but nothing had seeped through the bandages while he slept. If that was good or bad, he didn’t know.

“Merlin, here. Drink this.” He propped his friend up and brought a water skin to Merlin’s mouth to force him to slip. Merlin managed a few swallows before coughing, still sleeping. Lancelot scooped him up to place him on the mare again.

The sight on the other side of the clearing stopped him cold.

There was a unicorn standing between two trees, head held high with pride and grey hair in its eyes. It glowed, a soft white instead of the gold of Merlin’s magic. One it’s back was a woman.

“Oh, Merlin,” she sighed, sliding off the unicorn and running towards Lancelot.

He pulled Merlin closer, taking a step back, but the woman’s tears had him allowing her to approach.

“Merlin, Merlin.” She took Merlin’s face in her hands, planting a kiss on his forehead and then each of his eyelids, before rest their foreheads together.

“You’re Freya.”

The woman, Freya, looked up at Lancelot as if noticing him for the first time. A soft round face, with pink checks, surrounding by a tangle of dark brown curls. Her eyes were large and wide with surprise and grief.

“You know me?”

“Merlin’s mentioned you more than once to me. He still loves you, you know. Even though…”

“Even though I’m dead?”

“Are you? You look alive to me.”

She laughed and placed a hand on Lancelot’s cheek. It was cold and damp and reminded Lancelot of what Merlin had said about her – how he had laid her to rest in the lake surrounding the Isle of the Blessed and how she had been transformed into the Lady of the Lake. Spirit, immortal witch, dead flesh reanimated, a creature of magic. Merlin had no idea what Freya was now.

He didn’t care either. He still went to visit her, talk to her, though she never answered. Merlin knew Freya was listening.

Lancelot had never thought it healthy. But then again, he wasn’t a perfect relationship role model.

“I’m alive as long as Albion has need of me, though I will admit it’s a different type of life then you live.”

“Albion? Not Avalon?”

She smiled at him. “I see Merlin has told you many things. And I will tell you many more. But later. Merlin needs to heal. Come. The unicorn will take us back to the lake.”

“We have our own horses.”

“And they will take days to take you to the lake. The unicorn will take minutes.”

Lancelot looked at the creature. It was a sturdy beast, with a thick chest and strong legs, but it was squat and with a small back.

“It doesn’t look like all three of us will fit on the unicorn.”

“She’s for Merlin.”

Lancelot looked down at Merlin in his arm, pale and still. “He won’t be able to hold on.”

Freya looked at their friend between them. She brushed a piece of sweaty hair from Merlin’s forehead. “Albion should have woke me sooner. But we still have time. You can ride behind him.”

“Can you lift him to me?”

“Of course.” She slipped her arms under his and took Merlin’s weight.

Lancelot couldn’t help but stare. Freya was waiflike, with her thin body and short height. But she stood unbowed under Merlin’s weight, pulled him up and close so that his head rested on her shoulder.

He dearly wished Merlin was awake to remember Freya’s embrace.

The unicorn didn’t have a saddle and Freya wasn’t free to give him a boost up, but the mare read Lancelot’s mind. She walked over to a stone and Lancelot used it to mount. Once he was comfortably seated, he signaled Freya to pass up Merlin.

She hesitated, unwilling to let her love go, but eventually passed Merlin up to Lancelot. The knight positioned him in front, both legs dangling over the same side, and gripped the unicorn’s mane so his arms braced Merlin on both sides.

Once they were settled, the unicorn started walking. Lancelot was surprised by how smooth her gait was. It didn’t feel as if he was on a horse at all, but rather in a cushioned cart on a smooth stone. Freya walked beside them, a hand on the unicorn’s withers. She didn’t seem bothered at all by her bare feet and thin dress, nor the dampness of her hair and clothes in the cool air.

“You have the advantage,” Freya said, smiling up at Lancelot. “I don’t know who you are, though you know me.”

“I only know you because Merlin talks about you.”

“And I know many of the knights because Merlin talks about you too. But I can’t tell which one you are. Gwaine?”

Lancelot winced, remembering the fight between Gwaine and Arthur at the courtyard. Gwaine crying out because he wanted to help Lancelot with Merlin. Having Gwaine here now would be nice. But having him in Camelot might be better if he could persuade Arthur to not arrest Merlin.

“Not Gwaine then,” Freya said, reading his expressions. “Lancelot then. A true knight, whose noble heart shines bright.”

Lancelot spluttered. “Merlin has not said that about me.”

“Not exactly, no. But when he speaks of you, Lancelot, it is with a fondness and love that rivals what he has of Gaius.”

Lancelot looked down at Merlin in his arms. It was high praise. He and Merlin were friends, confidantes, but he would never had expected to be so high on Merlin’s list.

“It’s an honor to have Merlin as a friend.”

Freya beamed at him.

Before them, the woods thinned and they came upon a lake, water smooth and glowing with the same gold light the forest was. Lancelot could see an island in the center of the lake with a tower on it, glowing a brilliant white even while smaller bright blue lights buzzed on the surface of the lake.

It took him awhile, but he recognized this place.

“This is the Isle of the Blessed.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s almost two full days’ hard ride from Camelot. And we are on the wrong side of the city.”

“The Isle of the Blessed is a place of magic, Lancelot. And magic can do many things. In the case of the Lake, it is more. It’s a portal to Avalon,  the world of the worthy dead, and people die all over Albion. It appears when there is need of it.”

Lancelot didn’t like the idea of Merlin needing a gateway to Avalon. He’d kept an ear out for the pulse of the magic in the forest, the rhythm of Merlin’s breathes. Merlin might be dying, but Lancelot had been hoping Freya was bringing them to a place of healing instead of one to hold a funeral.

“Are we to lay Merlin to rest then? So he can join you in the lake?”

Freya gave Lancelot a sad smile. “Of a sort. It is not his time to travel to Avalon, nor I fear will he ever rest there. But yes, we are here to lay Merlin in the water. The Lake and the Isle are symbols of magic and Albion, just as Merlin is also magic and Albion. It is here we can heal him.”

Lancelot couldn’t even begin to understand, but he knew Freya wasn’t lying. In the short time Lancelot had watched her, he knew she was devoted to Merlin and wouldn’t do anything to harm him. Besides, she had arrived on a unicorn and hadn’t Merlin said they only interacted with those pure of heart?

Freya turned to Lancelot, arms extended, and Lancelot gently handed Merlin to her. She took his weight and turned towards the water. Lancelot slid off the unicorn to quickly follow her.

Together, they gently laid Merlin in the shallows of the lake. The small blue bubbles that had been hovering over him slid away to bob on the water, but they still clustered close. Freya settled Merlin’s head on her lap and began cupping water over his shoulder burn. Taking the cue, Lancelot went a little further into the water to tend to Merlin’s arrow wound. He unwound the cloak scraps and used them to gently wash the gash.

When the blood was gone from Merlin’s skin, Lancelot inspected the wound. His thigh had been swollen and bruised, and indeed it still was, but it appeared to have shrunk a bit. Glancing up at Merlin’s shoulder, he could see that the burn was less intense, the blisters smaller. Most telling was Merlin’s face, his cheek resting on Freya’s thigh. He was still pale and grey, but no longer sweating. If he didn’t know better, Lancelot would say the other man was simply fighting a bad flu.

“The magic of Avalon is certainly great to heal a man so quickly.”

Freya looked up at him. “This is not Avalon’s doing. It is the vilia,” she gestured to the small glowing bubbles, “And Albion. And there are few men on Earth the country will heal. And of those, only Merlin could heal so quickly.”

Lancelot frowned. “I don’t understand. Albion is but a country no longer united. It was divided into separate kingdoms centuries ago. How can land heal?”

Freya scooped up another handful of water and tipped her hand so that it trickled onto Merlin’s forehead. “The same way water can heal, Lancelot the Bright. Because it is imbued with magic.”

“Magic?”

“Certainly Merlin has mentioned a little of how magic works. It is energy and there is no greater source of energy then life. It flows through nature, through the earth, and over time, if treated the right way, it grows aware. Albion is such an aware magic. When it was one kingdom, the Old Religion was practiced by many and they spoke to the land by name, asked of and gave blessings to Albion. And in time the magic in Albion became aware of what was going on in within its borders. It formed a bond with its rulers.”

“I think I’ve heard of this. The tales aren’t told in Camelot. Kings of old were considered to have two wives, one human and the other the land. When pleased, the land would provide for the kingdom. When upset, it would make living hard. Kings had to do right by the land or one of the goddesses relating to it.”

Freya nodded. “And so it was with Albion. Now, she is not pleased with the kingdom. She is not pleased with Uther’s rejection and persecution of magic, of Alined’s belittling of it, of Annis’s insistence of its fabrication. That the Five Kingdoms shun magic and others keep it small and guarded to prevent attack. She is fragmented and sad and so seeks to bring about a united Albion like the land once was. Albion wants to be whole and at peace.”

“This I know, Merlin mentioned something. The Once and Future King is destined to unite the land of Albion and Emrys will ensure that he does so.”

“Has he mentioned Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer there will ever be, past present and future?”

Lancelot stared at Freya, hands coming to a stop.

Emrys was what the sorceress had called Merlin yesterday, hadn’t she? Merlin had mentioned the druids saw him as someone special, had identified Arthur as the Once and Future King, but Lancelot had never made the connection between Merlin and Emrys before now.

The most powerful sorcerer alive.

No one would never think it was Merlin.

But Lancelot supposed that’s why it had to be Merlin who was Emrys. Anyone else be abuse that power or be corrupted by it. Merlin simply helped others. And okay, maybe save himself some work in lighting fires when it was just the two of them. Lancelot couldn’t begrudge Merlin doing something for himself to make his life easier.

Freya smiled at him when she realized Lancelot made the connection.

“So because Merlin is Emrys, the magic of Albion can heal him.”

“Close. Albion can heal Emrys because Emrys _is_ Albion.”

Lancelot shook his head. That made no sense.

“Albion wants to be united and identified Arthur to be the Once and Future King. So she went on to create Emrys.”

Lancelot frowned, taking his eyes of Freya to check up on Merlin. The wound on his thigh was half the size it had been, his burn almost gone.

He didn’t like that idea at all. That Merlin had been _created_.

“I don’t believe it.”

“But it’s true. Arthur’s birth was special, Ygraine and Nimueh made it so. Merlin was always going to be born with power, Albion just enhanced it and made Merlin her own. Magic, nature, is balance, and so that is what came together to create Emrys. A lord with command over the most wild of creatures and a servant whose only power was in her smile. A woman with a tie to Albion and a man from beyond her boarders. From a couple who meet, married, and lied on the shores of this very Lake.”

Freya swept her hand out to include the lake and isle, but Lancelot looked beyond it to the woods around them. They still glowed and he couldn’t see where the glow stopped, there was a hint of faint golden columns across the water. Perhaps all of Albion was glowing in this moment. And just as Lancelot had determined before, it pulsed in time with Merlin’s heartbeat.

Though now he had to wonder if Merlin simply had Albion’s heartbeat.

But no. It had slowed before, just as Merlin’s had. And now that Merlin was almost cured, the beat was faster and easier to feel on his skin.

He didn’t want what Freya said to be true.

“Is he human?”

“He is magic.”

“But is he human?”

Freya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side. One of the large blue lights that had been circling them at a distance flew closer to hover over Freya’s shoulder. It seemed to speak to her, the way it bobbed close to her ear and the twists on Freya’s face, but Lancelot wasn’t sure he would like what the light was saying.

“The Sidhe say he is a creature of magic, but so are many things. I am a creature of magic, the Sidhe are creatures of magic, and dragons are creatures of magic, but that doesn’t not mean they are not separate. I am very different from a dragon.”

It didn’t answer his question in a way he had wanted it answered – yes or no. He didn’t like it.

If Merlin learned any of this, sweet Merlin who had already confessed to Lancelot about childhood thoughts of being a monster, well, Lancelot could see his friend not taking the news well.

Lancelot wouldn’t tell him what he learned tonight.

Merlin gave a sigh and shifted in the water, turning to his side to nuzzle at Freya’s hip. Lancelot looked away from the painful sight.

At least Merlin was now fully cured. He simply looked like a man on the verge of waking up even as he wished he could hold onto slumber.

“I’ll let you two have a moment.” Lancelot stood up and made his way to shore, ignoring his wet pants.

The unicorn was grazing. She ripped up tall, glowing grasses with her lips and didn’t seem to mind Lancelot stroking her neck.

Merlin had said things before - that he had been born with magic. That he had been referred to as a creature of magic, of kin to dragons. But this? Lancelot looked up at the forest, still golden, and golden for as deep into the woods as he could see. Gold like Merlin’s eye when he cast, a color unlike any Lancelot had seen in another sorcerer’s eyes.

A color of Albion. Of the Pendragon crest.

He ran a hand down his face slowly, pulling his skin towards his chin. This was a bit beyond Merlin simply being powerful. Had more ramifications then Arthur discovering his servant had magic. Sentient land? Given human form in the shape of Merlin?

What a weight to sit on a man’s shoulders. And with the Druidic prophecy about Emrys already on Merlin’s –

Lancelot glanced towards the lake. The glow from the water made it easy to see Merlin and Freya. To tell that they were kissing. Lancelot looked away to give them privacy, moving with the unicorn as the mare moved towards a new patch of greenery.

He didn’t know how much time passed until the sound of splashing coming closer caught his attention. Lancelot, lying on his back looking at the stars, turned his head towards the lake. Freya and Merlin were walking towards shore, hand in hand and smiling at each other. Lancelot couldn’t help but smile himself. It was rare to see Merlin look so happy.

Lancelot stood and brushed the grass from his pants.

“You’re looking better, Merlin.”

Merlin jiggled his previously injured leg, leaning on Freya as he showed off the unblemished skin through his ruined pants. “Yup. All healed. Better than, I’d say. I feel energized. As if I just had a week off from both Arthur and Gaius.”

“Glad to hear. You had me really worried, Merlin.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not something you should apologize for.”

Merlin opened his mouth again, no doubt to apologize for apologizing, but caught himself. A sheepish smile crept onto his face.  
Lancelot often thought Merlin was too enduring for his own good.

Freya shifted next to Merlin. Lancelot didn’t know if she had explained anything about Albion to Merlin, he hoped she hadn’t. Merlin didn’t look as if he had just gotten startling news.

“We need to go,” Merlin said. He did his best to keep the sadness out of his voice, but Lancelot could still hear it. “Freya can only be with us so long now that the magic is retreating and we need to get back to where you left the horses, Lance.”

“Okay then. We riding the unicorn again?”

Taking the cue, the mare stood up and shook.

“You two ride, I’ll walk.”

“You sure?” Lancelot asked Freya. “You and Merlin could ride together.”

“You need to leave as you came.”

Lancelot didn’t press the issue. He helped Merlin mount and then the warlock pulled Lancelot up. Once settled, the unicorn headed into the woods with Freya at her withers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Merlin said as he reached out to stroke the unicorn’s neck. “Thank you for the ride.”

He turned to look at Lancelot, but spoke to Freya as well. “Did I tell you about the time Arthur killed a unicorn?”

“He didn’t!” Lancelot said.

“Did too, even though I told him not too. Got Camelot cursed and everything.”

It had certainly been a trying time, but Lancelot found the tale entertaining since he knew Camelot was safe. Merlin told it well, calling forth magic to create shapes in the air to enhance the telling. The tale wasn’t long by any means, but as Merlin finished the unicorn stepped into the clearing where Lancelot had stopped earlier that night.

Except it looked as if they had been gone for weeks instead of hours. Their bedrolls were hidden by grass and half covered with leaves. One of their packs was shredded by an animal, the items inside scattered through the clearing. There was no sign of ash from the fire, all traces blown away. The cooking pot, on its side, had collected a pile of leaves and the shiny trails on the outside suggested several slugs had crawled over it.

The horses were gone.

Lancelot cursed.

“I didn’t think we were outside of time that long,” Merlin whispered.

“Outside of time?” Lancelot echoed.

Merlin could slow down time, Lancelot knew. But only on himself and for short periods. Albion, it appeared, had the power to do much more.

Could Merlin do the same if he tried?

Lancelot shook the thought aside.

“You were dying,” Freya said softly. Both men looked down at her, but she had eyes only for Merlin. “That takes time to heal, even at the Gate to Avalon.”

Merlin frowned. “I’ll have to get a close look at that arrow. Did you bring it, Lance?”

“No.” He should have, he realized now. If it had been the spells on the metal crossbow bolt that had pushed Merlin to death’s door, he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted in Arthur’s hands.

“We can go back to that castle and look for it.” Merlin slid from the unicorn and Lancelot did the same.

“I need to leave. The magic’s fading,” Freya said.

Absently, Lancelot noticed the glow of Albion’s magic was faint and easy to overlook. It had started to fade a while ago, about the time Merlin woke up if Lancelot had to put a finger on it, and had dramatically dimmed as they rode through the woods. All the light now came from the unicorn’s white glow.

Merlin took Freya’s hands in his and leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. He pulled back to lay his forehead on hers. Lancelot stepped away, but he could still hear them.

“I’m glad I got to see you again. The whole you, not just your arm above the lake.”

Freya laughed. “Me too. I’ve missed holding you. And I fear it will long, long time until I can do so again.”

Merlin heaved a sigh.

“Remember, Merlin. You _are_ Emrys. In all meanings of the name and word.”

“I just want to be Merlin.”

“I know.”

Lancelot heard them kiss again, even as he looked for traces of their second set of saddlebags.

“Goodbye, Merlin. Goodbye, Lancelot.”

Lancelot turned around to see Freya on the unicorn. The unicorn looked solid enough, but Lancelot could tell that Freya’s form was beginning to fade. She was shimmering, as if she had just emerged from the lake to a noonday sun instead of the hour before dawn.

“Goodbye, Freya.” Lancelot called out. “It was nice to meet the girl Merlin always talks about.”

“And I’m glad I met you too, Lancelot. Merlin has said such wonderful things.”

“Oh, shut up.” Merlin said, crossing his arms and blushing in embarrassment. “You need to get to the Lake before the magic fades.”

“I know.” Freya gave Merlin a last smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The unicorn turned and galloped away. Lancelot swore trees moved out of its path.

When the unicorn and Freya were out of sight seconds later, Lancelot noticed the magic in the forest was gone. He knew, logically, that the forest was still alive. The trees were still growing and the birds still nesting in the branches, but it seemed as if it were less so, without the glow.

Lancelot found he missed it. But he knew the magic was there under the soil and bark, under Merlin’s skin and filling his veins.  
He shook his head.

“What did Freya mean? That you’re Emrys in all versions of the name and word. I thought it was just a name.”

“I’ve heard it used mostly as a name.” Merlin shrugged as he walked away from Lancelot. “But as a word, in the Old Tongue, it means ‘immortal one’.”

Lancelot flinched.

Merlin bent down to pull up one of the blankets from the ground.

“I think she means I have to accept being a legendary figure people will talk about for ages. I’m alright with that.”

 _Immortal one._ Merlin wasn’t really immortal, was he?

No impossible. After all, he had just nearly died.

But Albion cured him. Would that happen again?

Possibly. But Merlin would have to get to the lake again, Lancelot supposed. And that wouldn’t always be possible even with a unicorn-riding Freya.

Merlin, thankfully, hadn’t noticed Lancelot’s reaction to the translation, too busy shaking out a blanket. “It’s damp and mildewy, but if we wash it in the creak I think it’s usable.”

“Sounds good.”

They spent the morning gathering up their scattered supplies, fixing what they could and leaving the rest. Something, probably Albion, had preserved most of Merlin’s items. They found his saddlebag in a nearby hollow tree, items untouched, and his blanket, unlike Lancelot’s, hadn’t been nibbled at by a rat.

“Where to now?” Lancelot asked after a breakfast of berries. It hadn’t been the season for berries yesterday. They had been at the lake at least six weeks, Lancelot guessed.

Plenty of time for Arthur’s anger to settle. He hoped. He had looked livid.

“I want to go back to that castle. See if the arrow is still there.”

“Okay. Then where?”

Merlin was silent as he closed his saddlebags and threw them over his shoulder.

“Arthur…he knows." All the vibrancy the lake had given Merlin faded away as he hunched in on himself. “And I bet he hates me now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Merlin turned to look at him. “Really?”

Lancelot frowned. “Arthur was, he was really angry when I last saw him. Angry at you, angry at me. You passed out, but your shield still held.” He shook his head. “Arthur said he was going to drag us back to Camelot behind the horses. I told him to his face you had a greater hold over my loyalty, picked you up, and ran.”

“Lance. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you dare, Merlin! Don’t you dare! You do this all the time, hold yourself second to everyone around you. I meant it, last year, when I said you were the bravest of all of us. That you should have been knighted.”

“I’m just a servant.”

“Just a servant my arse!” Lancelot shouted. He marched up to Merlin and jabbed him in the chest. Merlin took a step back, eyes wide.

“Lance-“

“You’re not just a servant, Merlin! You’re a good man. A brave man. You’re probably the reason why Arthur’s a good man, too.”

“Well, Gwen helped.”

“Stop doing that! I’m trying to complement you and tell you how important you are.”

Merlin blinked at him once and then turned his gaze to the forest floor. “The only one who tells me that is Gaius.”

Lancelot wanted to smack Arthur upside the head.

“Well, more people should. Merlin. Merlin, look at me.”

He did, cautiously raising his head until their eyes locked.

“You are important. To Gaius. To Gwaine - he fought Arthur to come after us but lost. To Freya. To me. To-to Arthur too.” _You’re a god-damn powerful, possibly immortal, warlock that a whole culture, a whole sentient piece of the world’s magic, believes is a figure from prophecy destined to bring magic and peace to Albion. You might be, dang it all, I think you **are** more important than Arthur._

“Because I’m Emrys and he’s the Once and Future King.”

“No. But we’ll talk about that Emrys deal later because I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that.”

Merlin gave him a sheepish look.

“You’re important to Arthur because you two are friends. You’ve done more for each other than anyone else I know.”

“You’re forgetting he probably hates the both of us right now.”

“I doubt that. Oh, he’s angry at the pair of us. Probably will be for a while because he’s got more than one thing fueling it. But I can’t believe that he hates you. Why are you smiling?”

“Someone once told me that Arthur and I are two sides of the same coin and you cannot hate that which makes you complete.”

Lancelot snorted. “That sounds like you and Arthur.”

Merlin smiled, but quickly sobered. “Even if he doesn’t hate me, even if his anger fades, things will never be the same between the two of us. I lied to him. For years.”

“You had good reason. Those with magic are burned.”

Merlin shivered, eyes going dark, and Lancelot cursed himself. He clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, bringing him away from the death screams Lancelot knew sometimes haunted Merlin’s thoughts.

“You feared for your life. Still do.”

Merlin shook his head. “Not from Arthur, not anymore. Arthur’s views on magic are not as strong as Uther’s, but they still swing from tolerable acceptance to hatred. Something will push him one way, then something else the other. His stance is more unpredictable than I would like, but right now I know it’s firmly anti-magic. But you’re right. I’m scared of what Arthur will do. I’m not super important to Arthur. I mean, I know he prefers me to the other servants he’s had. And I know he does care for me in some capacity. But I'm replacable.”

Lancelot wanted to knock Merlin on the head too, but instead squeezed his shoulder.

“Arthur…I don’t think Arthur would have me killed. I haven’t thought way in almost a year now. I do think he’ll punish me, somehow. I do think he wouldn’t allow me to serve him, and that really is the best way to know when something is putting him or Camelot in danger. He’ll look at me like a stranger. Or like I’m Morgana. And I don’t – I can’t –“

Merlin wrapped his arms around his middle and bowed his head. It was automatic for Lancelot to pull his friend in for a hug. Merlin trembled and Lancelot thought he was going to cry, but when the warlock pulled away his cheeks were dry. Lancelot didn’t comment on the water on his eyelashes.

“Give Arthur enough time to cool down and I think he’ll listen to you. About why you did what you did. And about what you’re supposed to do. But first, you’re going to tell me all about how you found out you were Emrys and anything about the Druids' legends of him you failed to mention before. I only know the one about him and the Once and Future King working together. But there’s more, I know, according to the sorceress in the old castle and Freya. We have a long walk to the castle, at least a day and half. You’re telling me everything you haven’t yet.”

“Okay.” Merlin nodded and then started walking east. Lancelot fell into step behind him. “I told you about that Druid boy I hid with Morgana and Gwen’s help? Well, I might have left some parts out.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't follow me on Tumblr, you miss out on snippets of future chapters. Which would be a shame cuz Gwaine is so fun to write.


	3. Death of a Sorcerer

Gwaine felt like a stallion locked in a stall while the mares in heat were in a nearby pasture. He paced all the time, snapped at anyone who so much as looked at him wrong, and always faced the eastern fields with flared nostrils.

He didn’t want to be in bloody Camelot. He wanted to be out searching for Lance and Merlin. But Percival had said the person Lancelot was most likely to contact was Gwaine. And Gwaine would be easiest to find in Camelot.

He suspected that Percival wanted Gwaine close because the tall knight was an old friend of Lance’s and wanted to know any news that came. If Gwaine was, say, in Balnor when he got a message, he wouldn’t be able to share it.

But one week stretched to two. Two into three. There had been no word.

Gwaine wanted to leave. To ride his horse hard towards the castle they had visited that fateful day, pick up a trail. Never mind that there wouldn’t be any evidence, not after this long.

He could at least go to Ealdor. Gwaine didn’t know exactly where it was, just that it was over the eastern border, but it was Merlin’s home and a place where he might go.

But, Percival said, Arthur would suspect that. And knowing that, Lancelot would keep Merlin away.

Gwaine had seen, in the misty morning two days after their return, a small group of four ride out of the eastern gates. They hadn’t been dressed as knights, but Gwaine recognized their faces. In farmer’s garbs they headed out with swords hanging from their saddles and one saddle carried a pair of iron shackles. Gwaine had seen Sir Kay take them from the armory the night before and he would bet three beers the other disguised knights had them too.

They went to Ealdor, Gwaine was sure of it. They came back eight days later, empty handed. Gwaine was so relieved he collapsed on the way to the tavern, falling into Elyan.

That had been a rare night – Elyan drinking with them. And by them, Gwaine meant Percival and him. Merlin’s secret was still a secret – no one outside of that mission know. Well. Gaius had known. And Arthur had told Leon on their return. But that was it.

It split them right down the middle, Merlin’s magic did. The other knights didn’t know what caused the rift between the Six Knights of the Round Table. But they knew it had to do with the mission that had them returning without Lancelot and Merlin.

The thing was, Gwaine supposed, was that it came down to diversity. Exposure to other kingdoms, knowledge of what was beyond the Five Kingdoms too. Arthur and Leon? They had grown up fearing magic. Saw it as a crime, as something evil. Understandable, considering Uther’s rules and the consequences of those - lots of sorcerers wanting revenge.

But the rest of them? Percival and Gwaine had seen more of the world than Elyan, that was true, but all three of them had seen magic in peaceful situations. Those who had attacked Camelot lately were strong, yes, but most magic users weren’t. They had enough magic to light fires, boil water. Stronger ones could heal or remotely keep an eye on the cows. Where magic was accepted you saw it used for mundane things more than anything else. A shop owner was more likely to have an apple stolen by a normal street urchin then a sorcerer’s son.

Magic was not to be feared or hated. Those who used it were not to be prosecuted. Gwaine had bit his tongue when he took up living in Camelot – it was Arthur’s to rule – but he had never liked it and always hoped that those who had magic went to someplace more amicable.

Why Merlin didn’t, Gwaine had no idea. But when his friend showed up again, Gwaine was going to shake the answers out of him.

Gwaine sighed into his half full tankard. Percival did the same across from him. Elyan had stopped joining them the day the party of knights sent to Ealdor came back. Oh, he agreed that Merlin and Lance had been right to run and Arthur was in the wrong to hunt them. But his sister was supporting Arthur. And Elyan had been rescued by Arthur, was from Camelot, and had seen less of the world.

“I swore fealty. I bow to Arthur. What you do is treason.”

“What? Speak my mind, challenge the Princess? Someone needs to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Elyan. If there’s a fight I’ll be at Arthur’s back and protecting his pretty backside. But I’m not going to hide my dislike of his decision. I’m not just going to roll over and do what he says.”

He hadn’t actually said a word to Arthur since Sir Kay’s group rode out, though he obeyed every order and instruction the prince said on the training field.

Arthur had passed Gwaine and Percival up for missions too. They’d been stuck behind Camelot’s walls for three weeks, not even out on patrol. It was driving him mad.

“I want out.” He said, slamming his tankard down on the table.

“I know,” Percy sighed. “But Arthur’s not going to let us-“

“Then we sneak out.”

“And go where? We’ve been over this, Gwaine. We have no idea where they would go.”

“Maybe the Perilous Lands.”

Percival choked on his ale. “Are you mad?” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The Perilous Lands?”

He was actually quite serious, but a public tavern wasn’t the place to mention serious thoughts. _Perilous Lands,_ just on the off chance Merlin had told Lance to go there, was as off limits as _sorcerer_ and _magic._ Gwaine wasn’t actually sure if his own room was safe for such words.

He was scared, paranoid even, about letting Merlin’s secret slip. He might go to the tavern earlier and earlier, went five nights out of seven instead of three like he used to, but he always watched his intake. Arthur and worry might be pushing him to the tankard more frequently, but his desire to keep Merlin safe has increased his awareness of just how much he drunk.

Gwaine couldn’t imagine letting that secret out. Was terrified of doing it on accident.

He figured it was half of the terror Merlin might have felt living in Camelot, working directly for family responsible for killing those like him.

And, he thought, remembering a conversation he and Merlin had had years ago while cleaning boots, it was very possible one of Uther’s victims had been Merlin’s father.

“I don’t know if Merlin’s brave or stupid.” Gwaine said, throwing back the rest of his drink.

“That’s obvious,” Percival smiled at him over the lip of his drink. “He’s both.”

Gwaine laughed.

“Why do you think he stayed?” Percival asked, setting down his tankard.

Gwaine stared at his own, but decided against ordering a third. “Arthur, of course. Even when we first meet, and I was bashing nobles left and right, Merlin had nothing but praise for the Princess. And as I got to know Arthur, I agreed with Merlin. Arthur’s different from other nobles.” He snorted. “But not different enough.”

Percival didn’t say anything.

“Why, what do you think?” Gwaine pressed.

“There were….I think the sorceress at the castle and Merlin were talking about something none of us know. She mentioned a prophecy, he mentioned destiny. It sounded as if – as if Merlin is expected to do something other than serve Arthur. I don’t think it’s something bad!” Percival leaned back when Gwaine growled. “Really, how could you think that of me?”

Gwaine rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Sorry, not you. It’s just – Leon.”

“What’s he saying now?”

“That Merlin was simply trying to lure Arthur to compliancy and then was going to kill him.”

“Did you point out the many chances Merlin’s had in the past month alone and didn’t take?”

“Of course! To which point, he changes tune to say he was going to turn Arthur into a puppet king.”

“Merlin? Really?”

“Hey, I’m with you on this. But Leon and Arthur are cut from the same cloth. They grew up here, rarely left. And even if Arthur’s a forgiving man, Leon can be a bit harsh. And right now he’s the one Arthur’s listening to the most.”

“Elyan’s, well, Elyan’s walking the swords edge. Certainly he can convince Arthur that Merlin’s a good man and wouldn’t do that.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Gwaine slumped his shoulders, desiring another drink. It would certainly lift his flagging spirits.

“I want to find him. I can’t believe Lance hasn’t sent word yet.”

“It’s probably for the best.”

Gwaine shook his head, but then nodded. Arthur wasn’t in an accepting mindset right now.

“I still want to find him. That arrow…Even if it’s just to talk to him for a single night, I just want to know he’s safe.”

“Both of them,” Percival added.

“Both of them.”

“Where did you and Lancelot go? When you were travelling together, surely you had a safe spot you went back to?”

The tall knight tapped the handle of his tankard. “We never returned to a spot – but Lance and I were only together three, four months, before Merlin sent word for Lance. And most of those were outside of Camelot, some outside the Five Kingdoms. I doubt Lance would have taken Merlin that far away. At least, not in the condition he was in. Maybe after he was healed. But that wound looked deep. And considering what Gaius said, I’d guess Merlin will be doing minimal travelling for a while.

“They’ve got to be either still in Camelot or near the border. I’d guess east or south.”

“South,” Gwaine muttered.

“Gwaine?”

He leaned forward to speak, but then thought better of it. If his idea was correct, and not just a drunken thought, something they could act on, he wanted to minimize the chance of being overheard. “Let’s go for a walk.”

They paid and headed outside. There was a light drizzle, nothing to hamper their spirits, but the threat of something more kept the streets less crowded then normal.

“South?” Percival asked.

“I wasn’t joking about the Perilous Lands. Arthur had to do a quest there once. Merlin, of course, followed him even though he shouldn’t have for some stupid royal reason. I went with him. I’ve been there twice now – it’s a strange land. But it’s magic, at its core. It’s one of Camelot’s southern neighbors. And Merlin knows how to navigate it.”

“You think they went there?!” Percival paled.

“I know, it’s a dreadful place. Not a single tavern, the only thing to drink is swamp water. And there’s wyverns.”

“Wyverns.”

“They’re like baby dragons-“

“I know what wyverns are! One almost ate my arm, once.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway, on this quest Merlin got separated from us in the throne room. He was okay, but when Arthur and I reached him he seemed spooked and strangely serious. I think something magical happened. The Fisher King’s kingdom has always been linked to magic. And so, if there was a place for Merlin to heal himself best, I think it would be there.”

“In the Perilous Lands.”

“Yes.”

They walked three threes in silence before Percival spoke again. “If you go searching for Lance and Merlin there, I’ll join you.”

“You realize it involves sneaking out of Camelot under Arthur’s nose.”

“Very much so.”

“You’re a brave man, Sir Percival.”

Said man snorted. “I’d hold judgment on that. Give it a day, and I might be a dead man.”

Gwaine clapped a hand on his fellow knight’s upper arm, unable to comfortably reach his shoulder. They slowed their walk as they came up to the eastern gate, steps getting tiny before stopping. Gwaine had found himself here often, these past three weeks. Either looking at the gate, or on the walkway above. Looking out an eastern window.

East, after all, was the direction of where he had last seen his friend.

“I really hope they’re okay,” Gwaine said softly.

Percival gave a soft hum of agreement.

They stood there, ten, maybe twenty minutes. Gwaine didn’t mind the drizzle too much, but when he started to shiver he figured it was time to head back up to the castle.

“Come on, big guy. Time for bed.”

“Wait. I think I see something.”

Gwaine squinted into the night. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the sun had already set making the world dim and gray. Percival was right though, there were shapes coming towards them.

He flipped his wet hair back. “Think it’s a lady who would like the shelter of a knight’s cape?”

Percival snorted, ready to answer, when it became obvious what was approaching.

Two riderless horses. One black, one white.

There were shouts from the guards at the gates, a knight calling out for a guardsman to grab the bridles. Gwaine was already jogging past them, Percival on his heels, because Gwaine knew those horses.

They were Camelot horses, no surprised since they found themselves here on their own. But more importantly, Gwaine recognized them as the mounts Lancelot and Merlin rode.

Gwaine grabbed a hold of Merlin’s mare, Percival Lancelot’s gelding, and with a wave at the guards they led the horses quickly towards the stables.

“Sirs, let me-“

Gwaine brushed off the stable boy. “I’ll see to her. I like to do it.”

“But sir-“

“I said I’d do it!” Gwaine growled and the boy took a step back. He glanced between the two knights and the empty horses and Gwaine saw the look of recognition in his eyes. The boy knew that these two horses had been missing for weeks, and knew who had been riding them.

They had limited time before Arthur heard news of the horses. Gwaine wanted to learn what he could and be out of the stable before Arthur or Leon showed up to examine the mounts themselves.

Gwaine caught Percival’s eyes and the other knight nodded. They’d work quickly.

The first thing Gwaine noticed was that the supplies were gone. There was nothing tied to the saddle. He checked the horse’s side and legs, looking for injuries, but there was nothing. So Merlin had just taken his stuff and let the horse go to travel on foot. Odd, and ruled out a journey to the Perilous Lands. Gwaine hadn’t really wanted to go, but he would have. For Merlin.

Well, a horseless Merlin meant a close Merlin. For better or worse.

Quickly, Gwaine took off the mare’s bridle. Not that it was on properly. It was hanging around her neck, not on her face, and there were stray bits of leather on the bit. It was as if she had pulled and pulled on the reins used to tie her until the leather snapped. There was a wound on her neck to back that up.

Gwaine frowned. Merlin hadn’t simply let her go free then.

He moved on to the saddle, uncinching the girth and placing saddle and blanket on a nearby bench. The mare’s back was rubbed raw in places, the hair on the top of her withers was dark and crusty with sweat that was in the process of softening from the drizzle. Gwaine grabbed a dirty rag to dry the mare off, starting with her withers and moving along her back. It was when he crouched down to get her belly, gentle around the girth sore, that he realized the cloth was now pink.

Startled, he stared at it for a moment before looking at the mare’s coat. His rubbing had smoothed out the sweat spot for now, but she’d need a proper bath in the morning. Only, it might not be sweat at all.

Tentatively, he used the corner of the cloth to wipe the area a few times.

The corner turned pink.

Gwaine turned to the saddle, pulling the leather off of the blanket.

They stuck as if it were glued together, but he managed to separate the two. The saddle blanket was black, Gwaine couldn’t see any stains, but one side was stiff and flaked as he bent it. He looked at the inside of the saddle.

Small smears of red.

Gwaine’s mind pulled up the image of Merlin screaming on the old castle floor, iron crossbolt in his thigh. The blood oozing from the wound and staining his pants. How Lance had had to wiggle and pull to get the bolt out, because you couldn’t cut the shaft of an iron arrow. How high on the shaft the blood line was when Arthur picked it up later.

Merlin had bled so much it had soaked through the saddle blanket and caked on the coat of his mare, so thick that three weeks later there were still traces of it.

“Gwaine, I don’t think the horses have been unsaddled for weeks. Look at the state of the bits and the leather marks. They must have been loose since shortly after the castle.”

Gwaine didn’t say anything.

“Gwaine?” Percival walked over to him, looking over Gwaine’s shoulder as the shorter knight stood stone still. “Is that?”

“Yeah. Percy, this is a lot of blood. I don’t think, I don’t think someone can survive losing that much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t want to say it. But…but what if Merlin didn’t make it?”

He had never entertained that possibility before. Merlin was always okay in Gwaine’s mind. Someone had healed him, or Merlin had healed himself. He might be a little cold, a little hungry, but Gwaine always pictured him alive.

“Of course he did. If, if he didn’t, Lance would have come back. I’m sure they’re okay.”

“Something happened for them to lose the horses, Percy.”

“Yes, but not the supplies.”

“God, I just hope they’re safe.”

There was the sound of hurried footsteps and a familiar voice, Arthur. Panicking, Gwaine grabbed the saddle blanket and saddle and jogged out of the other side of the stable.

“What are you going to do with that?” Percival asked, keeping pace.

“Maybe Gaius can use it to tell us more about Merlin’s condition.”

The other knight nodded and together they made their way to the physician’s quarters.

Percival knocked. Gaius should still be up, maybe just starting to think about bed. Maybe more than thinking, as the physician answered the door in his nightshirt and with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

Gwaine stepped forward, lifting the saddle and blanket. “Merlin’s horse just arrived. Without Merlin. But his gear – I was hoping you could use it to tell us about his condition?”

“Sir Gwaine, I can’t very well tell you anything from a piece of leather-“

“The saddle blanket’s crusted with blood.”

Gaius paled and ushered them in.

Gwaine placed the tack on the only clear table and watched Gaius go around lighting the candles in the room. In the three weeks since Merlin and Lancelot taking off, the old man had aged fifteen years. He had lost half a stone, gained at least five new wrinkles. But worse of all, he moved more slowly and he had developed a tremor in his hands.

Gaius was always old, Gwaine knew that, but he had changed so little from the first time Gwaine meet him till the time the knights had set out to that old castle. The physician was a constant fixture in Gwaine’s mind, sure to be puttering around Camelot for another ten years at least.

Looking at him now, Gwaine thought another five years of service would be lucky.

Gaius poked and pulled at the blanket, bending it and smoothing it out. Looking at the saddle, asked Gwaine about blood on the horse. He did a few calculations in his head and when finished let out a sigh Gwaine didn’t like at all.

“Gaius?” Percival asked.

“It’s a lot of blood. Especially since you said its wet outside and the blanket soaked through to the horse. This alone is certainly cause for concern, but it’s not life threatening. But I fear Merlin didn’t simply bleed on horseback.”

Gwaine collapsed onto a bench, head in his hands.

Gaius sat next to him, shoulders slumped in defeat.

There was a harsh knock on the door and then it was pushed open. Arthur walked into the room. “Gaius, do you have more saddle sore…”

Gwaine didn’t look up, but he could imagine the prince looking from Gaius and Gwaine on the bench, to the tack on the table, to Percival standing next to it.

“What’s going on?”

For a full minute, no one answered.

“Percival? Gaius?”

Creaking like an oak in a windstorm, Gaius stood up. “You’ll find salve in the cupboard, sire. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the next two days off to mourn the death of my son.”

Gwaine lifted his head to watch Gaius slowly walk past his bed, up the stairs to Merlin’s room, and then lock the door behind him. Gwaine shot to his feet, grabbed the salve for the horses, and forced it into Arthur’s hands.

He then spoke to him for the first time in weeks. “Shove off and let Gaius cry in peace. Percy – let’s go back to the tavern.”

Gwaine pushed Arthur with his shoulder out of the doorway and into the hallway. Percival walked out behind him, closing the physician’s door. They walked away just as a soft sob came through the wood and Gwaine took larger steps away.

He didn’t look behind him at Arthur.

* * *

Leon knocked softly before entering Arthur’s chambers. There wasn't an answer, but he walked in anyway. He knew Arthur was inside.

He hadn’t left his room for two days. Not since...

It was hard to be angry at a dead man.

When the knights and Arthur had returned from thier mission, Leon had noticed the two missing men immediately. After learning why they were missing, Leon understood the shock on Arthur’s face.

Betrayal on multiple levels.

That's what magic did. It corrupted first the user and then those around them. Merlin was a sorcerer, one renowned enough the Druids knew of him, and he had swayed Lancelot to his side strongly enough to cause the knight to break his vows.

As the days had past, Leon thought he understood Merlin’s long term plans - gain the loyalty of those around the prince and rip it away from Arthur. Gwaine was in his grasp, as was Percival, and Elyan was half way there too. How and why Giaus was unaffected, Leon had no idea.

Maybe the old physician was simply in no position to act on it. Or maybe his past dabblings with magic prevented Merlin's from affecting him.

It had been Leon's idea to send knights to Ealdor and it had been him who commissioned the iron shackles the knights took with them. The iron arrow had been covered with sorcery etchings and they had affected Merlin. It was only logical that the same marks on shackles would prevent Merlin from doing harm.

Elyan had made them, with great resistance, and mumbled something about how simply marking them usually didn't work. Leon didn't care - any advantage he could give the men going after Merlin he'd take.

Not that it had mattered, Merlin and Lancelot hadn’t been in Ealdor.

But the time it had taken the knights to get there and back had been tense. Arthur’s shoulders kept hunching further everyday and there had been many a meal where the prince ranted to Leon's willing ear. How could Merlin? How could he go against the law? How could he have influenced Arthur as he had? Why had he even started studying magic? Why had he lied, what had he lied about, and how stupid had Arthur been to not notice and share so much with him?

It all came down to the evil of magic, Leon had said.

But still, when the Ealdor sent knights returned without prisoners Leon and Arthur both let out a breath of relief. They wanted Merlin and Lancelot under lock and key, controlled, but beyond that?

Leon didn't know what Arthur would have done with Merlin. He didn’t know what he would have recommended to do with Merlin if Arthur asked for Leon's advice.

What Leon wanted was Merlin to stop his political games in Camelot, to release his control over Leon's friends. How to get him to do that, he had no idea.

It didn't matter. Between the retelling of Merlin’s injuries and the amount of blood on the returned mare, Gaius had said no one could have survived that much blood loss.

He had mourned for the past two days, turning patients away. Just as Arthur had been secluded in his room.

"Sire."

Arthur turned to look at Leon, still leaning against stone wall beside the window. Leon knew it overlooked the main courtyard, where all the pyres had been built. The prince was still in his nightshirt, though dinner would be soon, and Leon suspected Arthur had worn it for the past two days. His face was scruffy, his eyes red, and his pallor pale.

"Sire, it's not good to mourn for a sorcerer. Especially since the court has no idea of why you are here in your rooms. The council is beginning to talk about Uther’s madness spreading."

"I'm not mourning a sorcerer," Arthur answered softly. He didn't elaborate and Leon didn't push.

"Then will you dine with your uncle tonight? He's requested as such."

Arthur sighed. "I have no desire to, but it would be for the best, wouldn’t it?"

"I believe so, sire. Shall I send someone in to help you get dressed? Gwen?"

Arthur winced.

"Another servent then. You've turned all away who would help you these past three weeks, but George who's been cleaning you rooms and bringing you meals would be happy to help you dress."

"George has been knocking on my doors these past two days trying to get in amd clean. I'd rather not see his face right now."

"I'll send for someone-"

"I hate to ask, because you're a knight, but would you serve me tonight? I...I'll find someone to take over all of Merlin’s duties tomorrow. But tonight..."

He trailed off and Leon could see just how much Merlin's death had affected Arthur. It must have been a strong spell, to linger so much after death on half the knights. But it would fade and if Arthur needed the support of a friend tonight Leon would gladly provide it.

He ducked out into the hallway for a moment to grab a passing maid. He told her to first tell Agravine to join the prince in his chambers for dinner in two hours and then ask the cook to send up a meal for two of lighter fare. Leon knew Arthur had ignored the food placed in front of his doors for the past three meals.

Two hours later, Arthur was somewhat clean but very presentable. Leon had removed his armor and cloak, dressed in his normal clothes, and was setting the room to order for Agravine's visit. It had felt strange to straighten Arthur’s sheets, but helping him dress had been similar to helping him don armor so that task Leon hadn't minded tonight.

"You're staying to eat, aren't you Leon?"

"I only asked for food for two."

"Knowing the kitchens, they'll send up more than I can eat. There will be enough."

"Arthur, it wouldn't be proper-"

"Leon, I don't care if in normal circumstances you wouldn’t dine with my uncle. I'm eating with Agravine to proove I'm not mad, but I don't feel up to listening to matters of the court or him hounding me as to where my head has been."

"You want a buffer," Leon said with a smile.

"If you would be so kind."

"Certainly."

Agravaine certainly looked surprised to see Leon open the door, but the man hid it well. While Leon knew Arthur had relied more and more on his uncle these past few months, the man still made Leon’s skin crawl. While Leon appreciated someone with more experience governing giving Arthur advice, the knight thought it was more than fishy Agravaine had only come to Camelot after Uther’s decent into madness.

Merlin had done a better job at hiding alternative motives and he was _Merlin._

Leon caught himself, shaking away the image of a young grinning man. All of that had been fake. The clumsiness, the earnest eyes, his unawareness of what was going on at court. Fake and it wouldn’t do to miss it.

Though Leon did. He had mourned a bit ago for the idea of the friend he had thought he had. Mourned the lack of support for Arthur, the man who could bring the prince out of a slump.

It had been a very quick mourning though.

Leon could tell Agravaine had wanted to bring up sensitive issues over dinner. He kept glancing at Leon with a small frown. Leon pretended not to notice and steered the conversations to recent patrol findings and appropriate court gossip. Apparently, Agravaine was in too much of a hurry to have his question answered for he broached the topic as they were finishing the meal.

“I was wondering Arthur if you’ve heard of the Once and Future King. Or perhaps a man by the name of Emrys. And Sir Leon of course, perhaps you’ve heard the people talk.”

Leon had noticed Arthur’s sudden stiffness and so did what he could to give his prince time to compose himself. The knight made a show of thinking, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair slowly.

“Emrys, Emrys, that’s a rather unusual name.” A familiar one, but from where he had no idea. “I’m sure I’d remember if I met a man by such a name. Do you know what he looks like? Perhaps a patrol came across him.”

“Sadly, no. But he’s powerful and old. Forty at least.”

Around Agravaine, Leon noticed Arthur choke on air. He suddenly wanted dinner to be over faster.

“Uncle, where did you hear such ridiculous names?”

“Oh, they are part of the tales you tell children in my land. The stories are old, centuries I believe.”

Leon hid his frown. Agravaine had described Emrys as someone alive now, not a figure from tales.

“They are not stories we tell in the city. What makes you bring them up now?” Arthur asked.

“I heard it in the market the other day – someone said you were like the Once and Future King.”

“Oh? And what is this king like.”

“Ah, the stories are never clear.”

“Hmm. Then I find it hard to believe I will be a king of legend. Though it would be nice to be known for many years.”

“I sure you will be,” Agravaine responded with a pout he poorly hid.

The man left and Leon immediately turned to Arthur. “You know who Emrys is.”

“Maybe. Back at that castle, that’s what the sorceress called-called Merlin.”

“You can’t possibly mean Merlin’s a figure of legend.”

“No. It’s a silly notion for sure. But, he called himself Emrys. And mentioned something about a prophecy.”

“You think Agravaine wasn’t talking about children tales.”

“No. But it doesn’t matter.” Arthur sighed deeply. “If Merlin was Emrys, anything relating to that name is no longer a concern.”

Arthur pushed himself up from the table and retreated to his window, leaning against the stone wall in a posture so similar to how he had looked hours ago when Leon came in, the knight’s heart broke.

As much as Leon knew Arthur was angry at Merlin, was upset and betrayed by him, underneath it all there was sadness.

Leon didn’t approve, but as long as Arthur’s opinions on magic weren’t swayed Leon wouldn’t comment on it.

* * *

Saying goodbye to a son had never been in Gaius’s plans. Nor had having one been, but life had a way of giving you things you didn’t want. Didn’t mean you didn’t come to love them regardless.

The worse part about saying goodbye, he supposed, was the lack of proof. Oh, the blood had been telling enough. But his old mind refused to think of Merlin as anything other than dead – he was on a long trip with Arthur, he was doing something for Camelot. Until he saw the body, there was a chance.

Gaius thrust that spark of hope down deep, because everything else contradicted it. Not just the blood and Gwaine’s story of what had happened, or the marks on the iron crossbow bolt Arthur had shown him that spoke of pain and turning one’s own magic against one. It was the very land.

It was a strange feeling to be sure. He knew the Old Religion spoke of the land as a breathing, living thing, but Gaius had never felt it. He put it down as not being very in tune with the natural elements – potions had always been his forte. The fact that he could feel something was off about Camelot’s lands was a testament to how strongly it was reacting to something, something that made sadness seep deep into Gaius’s bones.

Merlin’s death, or Arthur’s he supposed, would be the only thing Gaius could imagine to make the land so sad. And since Arthur was alive, that left Merlin.

Gaius wished he had a body to bury.

Even if Merlin would have been laid to rest in an unmarked grave, Gaius would remember the exact spot. Instead he had done something a bit unconstitutional, made even more so by Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and Gwen joining him.

Gaius had placed all of Merlin’s belongings on a boat, the dragon from Balinor on top, and then pushed it into the waters of Avalon.

Thankfully no one asked him why Gaius was burning clothes on a boat. Or why he was doing it on this lake instead of the common practice for men of Merlin’s statue – a hole in the ground. Gaius wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain that the ceremony was as much about sending things through to Avalon because Merlin might need or want them, as it was saying goodbye.

There was so much he wanted to say to the burning boat, to Merlin, but Gwen and the knights beside him made Gaius hold his tongue. He couldn’t speak of destiny and Albion, of Balinor and dragons. The knights might know that Merlin was magic, was also known as Emrys, but the importance of that name was still a secret. Must be, for Arthur’s sake.

Labeling one labeled the other, and there were prophecies abound about the pair. They often contradicted each other, the future had many paths, but so many had pushed and pulled and prayed for the one the dragon had told Merlin. Now, there was no telling which of the minor prophesies were to come to pass.

Gaius found he didn’t quite care anyway.

It was liberating, not considering a prophecy when making certain decisions. Oh, he'd hold his tongue now about who Merlin was, but there was no more worry about taking a certain path through history.

Gwen leaned into him, hiding her tears in Gaius’s shoulder. He let her, staring at the boat as the left lip fell into the lake. The hiss made everyone jump as if whipped.

They had all said thier piece. All was left was watching the boat burn until the flames were too close to the water.

As the last flame went out, the Lake turned gold. It took Gaius’s breathe away, so close in hue to Merlin’s eyes when he cast a spell. But he knew it was simply the sudden burst of sun on the Lake as it sunk behind the trees. He turned to go and was struck by an image.

There was Merlin, half in the water, half in the lap of a girl Gaius recognized but couldn't place. He was smiling at her, neck craned back to look at her face. Her own head was bowed towards Merlin's, leaning down to kiss him.

As soon as he noticed the pair they were gone.

"Gaius?" Gwen called, gently squeezing his arm.

The knights turned back to look at them.

"It's nothing, Gwen. Come, we should aim to be back before dark."

It wasn’t nothing. It was Avalon showing Merlin at peace. And knowing his son had found it made Gaius’s grief lift just a bit.

They made it to the citidel in the dark purple of twilight, the knights off to see Gwen home before heading to the tavern.

"You could come," Percival suggested, but Gaius shook his head no.

"Taverns are for young men."

"Did you want me to come keep you company? "

"You're a good man, Sir Gwaine. And you've always been a good friend to him. Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine."

Gwaine didn’t look inclined to believe him, but didn’t push.

So Gaius made the climb to his chambers slowly, by himself, and came to terms with the fact that he'd never hear Merlin fumble behind the door as he dressed or have someone to eat dinner with again. Sad thoughts that brought tears.

He paused at the top of the stairs. Arthur was standing there, fist to the door.

“Sire?”

The prince turned towards him. “Gaius! I was just coming to ask – are you all right? You – you look like you’ve been…”

Crying. Gaius could still feel the tear tracks on his face. But Arthur, as most nobility did, cared about image and pride and seemed uncertain of whether to point out the evidence of Gaius’s tears.

“It’s been a rough day, sire. We put Merlin to rest.”

Arthur paled.

“Why did you tell me? I would have come-“

“Would you really? Even knowing Merlin’s talents?”

“Yes, Gaius. I would have.”

Gaius simply raised an eyebrow. Arthur’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Can you tell me where you buried him? I can go visit tomorrow-“

“You’re forgetting, sire, that sorcerers aren’t permitted grave markers.”

This time Arthur flinched.

Gaius wished he knew what Arthur thoughts were about Merlin and magic. He had sent men out to bring Merlin back, he had stormed and angered about his return, he listened to Leon’s words about magic’s evil nature and shut down Gwaine’s defense of Merlin and Lancelot. And yet here he was, looking pained at not being at Merlin’s funeral.

Arthur was a private man, Gaius knew that, but not knowing where Arthur’s allegiance was laid made the physician wary of talking to him on anything other than a professional level.

“You wanted to ask something, sire?”

“Just about old children’s tales. But I can come back tomorrow.”

“That might be best.”

With a stiff nod, the prince left to head back into the castle.

The next morning, as Gaius watched Arthur head out on a solo ride from the window, he wondered if maybe he should have mentioned they burned Merlin’s belongings at the Lake nearby. It was an unmarked grave, but still someplace distinct to visit. No matter, they had left the bottom of the boat still floating on the water. Arthur would see it, and know, if he rode past it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you following me on Tumblr and seeing my posts on this - you know it's exploded in my head. Expect Morgana, Morgause, a bunch of druids, and potentially a once and future king who isn't Arthur ^_~ Not sure if that's a spoiler or not cuz I'm not sure how it's gonna go yet.


	4. Ill Omens

Why the witches lived in this shack, Agravine had no clue. Certainly they could build themselves a better place to stay, or improve the quality of what the inside of the hovel was like.

Morgause would probably say something about hiding their presence, or too much effort for such a temporary place to stay. Morgana would do whatever Morgause told her too.

Agravine had to admit, as far as temporary hideouts went the hovel wasn’t half bad. It was well hidden, even if it was close to Camelot, and well stocked. The issue was Agravine had expected the place to be used for two weeks, maybe a little more, not the months they had been here.

Morgause’s strength returned slowly after the priestesses’ last attack on Camelot. Gaius had sent her into a pillar that had damaged her brain. Morgana, Agravine learned, had attempted to cure her half-sister. Morgause woke her with full mental capabilities, but the spell had deformed her face and failed heal the damage to her spine.

Agravaine flinched when he had first seen the priestess. Looking for help, and with nowhere to turn, Morgana had turned up on his land to ask for aid. Her words of hate against Uther convinced him to provide Morgana basic necessities. And then beyond that to return to Camelot to earn a bit of the power Morgana planned to capture.

He had heard the news – Morgana was a Pendragon and a powerful sorceress. It might take time, but he had no doubt that she would sit on the throne once again. And if Agravaine got a couple of perks along the way, well.

But it had been almost four months now since he had reentered Camelot’s court and nothing had happened. Not even a plan made. Morgause laid in her bed teaching Morgana, Morgana stewed in her hatred, and Agravaine chuckled quietly to himself when he thought of Uther blankly staring out of the window.

The only interesting thing that had happened, during his monthly visits to the sisters, was learning about prophecies and prophetic visions.

The Once and Future King.

Emrys.

Alliances.

Witches.

Albion.

It was all very interesting. The Once and Future King, along with Emrys, was prophesied to bring back magic to Albion. Albion being an old name for a region of land larger than the Five Kingdoms. The women liked the idea of bringing magic back. They didn’t like the fact that there was nothing about a queen.

“The future takes many paths, sister. A Once and Future Queen is possible.”

“I don’t like some of the Druidic prophecies about the King though, even if we change the future to make it me. He can die early, or live to an old age. And he’s always mentioned with Emrys. Two sides of a same coin. He pushes you out of the picture, Morgause, if the Queen and Emrys work together.”

Morgause laughed. “Look at me Morgana, I cannot help you rule. I cannot stand.”

Agravaine entertained the fantasy of him being Emrys. Of Morgana on the throne, him at her side and sharing the power. Maybe her bed, though he wouldn’t push for it.

“What if we are the Alliance destined to bring down the King?”

“If so, we will have a long wait. Because magic would have to return to Camelot first and that seems a long way off.”

“It can’t be so long, can it? Emrys is old.”

Agravaine cleared his throat. Both women turned to look at him. He had the feeling they had forgotten he was there.

“I’m sorry, but I thought these prophecies were centuries old. But you are speaking as if they’ll come about in the next decade or so.”

“But of course,” Morgana smiled sweetly at him. “The Druids have spoken of Emrys. He lives currently. The powers he’s been reported to have, he’s had many years of study behind him.”

“We don’t know which prophecy about Emrys will come true. Those spoken so far in advance are more likely to shift then the dreams of current events,” Morgause added.

It seemed to Agravaine what they needed to do was figure out which of the prophecies were in motion. Which ones they could twist into being. If Emrys was around, they need to identify who him. And who the other names surrounding him might be.

If the Once and Future King had to be a king, as much as he didn’t want it to be, who could it be? Arthur? Lot? Alined? There were too many options.

Not knowing was why one asked questions. He would start with the court of Camelot.

* * *

“If you want to keep him, sister, you have to show you care for him.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Care for Agravaine? He’s just a tool.”

“Yes,” Morgause agreed, turning her head to watch Morgana walk to the fire. “But unless he is loyal to you there is no way to keep him in your employ. I dislike it, but we are reliant on him. Supplies, information, and eventually for action within Camelot’s walls. We can’t do this without help, and if he realizes how important his position is Agravaine might betray us. He does have a claim to the throne, just as you.”

“And because he’s currently at court, more likely to have the people’s favors.” Morgana jabbed angrily at the dying fire, adding a log and hanging a kettle above the new flames. “I hate having to rely on him.”

“I know. So make sure he will do anything for you.”

“How did you do it, with Cenred?”

Morgause smiled. “Tight dresses. Strokes up his arms. Displays of force, though I don’ t think that will work with Agravaine. Cenred liked the idea of being dominated in the bedroom. Agravaine…”

“I refuse to bed him.”

“I not telling you to. But give him the hope. And perhaps show your power. He craves it, I can tell, but he often bows before it. Uther drove him out so easily.”

With a sigh, Morgana made her way back to the bed. She sat on the edge and stroked Morgause’s hair out of her face. “I’m sorry my healing spells are not very good.”

“Healing is the hardest magic to learn. The body is complicated and you are exerting your will over something tied to another’s. You did fine. I couldn’t have done much better.”

“Gaius will die when I take the throne, for what he has done. Him and Merlin and Gwen.”

“Patience. You passion is good, but we must use this time to finish your training.” Morgause leaned her cheek ever so slightly into Morgana’s hand. “But if an opportunity comes, we will take it.”

“Gladly.”

The kettle bubbled and Morgana rushed to pull it off the flame. She poured the tea into waiting cups. While she let the drinks cool, Morgana helped Morgause sit up and propped her against the stone wall. The blonde woman hissed a spell, rearranging the pillows to her liking, and Morgana levitated the tea towards them.

They spent the afternoon talking of potions, more specifically poisons.

“Poisons needs antidotes, don’t forget,” Morgause said.

“Why? I only want to kill my enemies, not cure them.”

“You are too quick to action, Morgana. Poison someone and then promise them a cure and you’ll be surprised at what a man or woman would do.”

“Like betray their king.”

Morgause nodded. “Or do something for you. Water from the Lake of Avalon is used in many cure-alls. Avalon is a place of magic and any part of it is powerful.”

“Where is the Lake of Avalon?”

“Normally? Beyond the White Mountains to the northwest. In the center is the Isle of the Blessed. I know I’ve talked about that place of magic.”

“Yes.” Only stories, but they were of priestess full of power and authority. Morgana was sad she had never seen the Isle at full strength. One day, she’d see the ruins and feel the power of the Old Religion in the stones.

“But it moves,” Morgause added.

“Moves? A whole lake?”

“It’s a place of free magic, Morgana,” Morgause laughed. “It will do as it wants. And not all of it moves sometimes. The Lake is a portal, a doorway, and those can be built anywhere. There’s a piece of it near Camelot that comes and goes. I’ve never found it, but I’ve felt it on and off since we’ve been here.”

“Why would Avalon come to Camelot?”

“I believe it’s a sign of the prophecies being upon us. Or perhaps Emrys has the magic to summon it to him as needed.”

Morgana shuddered. Emrys scared her, just a little. Someone powerful enough to move a gateway to Avalon, a gateway to the beyond? The prophecies called Emrys the greatest sorcerer of all days, past, present, and future. What she had heard about him, of Emrys being one with the trees, streams, and stars made her wonder how far above the rest of them he was.

Sometimes she wondered if Emrys was not a sorcerer, but a god of the Old Religion playing at being human.

“Is the Lake near now? I would like to find it, see it myself.”

Morgause closed her eyes, searching, Morgana knew, with her magical senses.

"Yes,” the blonde woman answered, still with her eyes shut. “It’s within Camelot.”

“Maybe I’ll go today. Agravaine left me a horse. I should try the nag out.”

“Don’t leave for too long, sister. And don’t be upset if you don’t find it.”

“I won’t.” Morgana leaned down to kiss Morgause’s forward before leaving the hut.

She headed off into the woods, opening up her mind and senses to the magic of the Earth as Morgause taught her. There was indeed a large concentration of it to the south. Morgana nudged the old mare in that direction.

The closer she got to the magic, the more she was able to describe it. Morgause had talked about different people and places having their own flavor of magic. What Morgana was approaching was surprisingly bittersweet and powerful. It made her skin tingle and her nose fill with the scent of loam.

The nag left the treeline and there before Morgana was what could only be the Lake of Avalon. Or at least a small part of it. The island in the center did not seem large enough to hold all the buildings Morgause had described. The water was still, not a wind’s wave or bubble’s ripple to be seen.

Looking at it, she suddenly felt dizzy. The birds in the sky were moving fast, but the leaves in the breeze swayed in slow motion. She closed her eyes and when she opened them the effect was gone.

She noticed the half burned boat pulled on the shore. It was a funeral pyre.

Curious, she dismounted and approached. She was surprised to see a knight’s cloak covering the body, especially as the fabric was unburnt. Curiosity had her pull up a corner and found that there wasn’t a body underneath the red fabric at all. It was a pile of clothes, most of it ashes. Nothing indicated who the clothes belonged to, but whoever they were they had obviously been important to one of the knights. He had returned to give up his cloak, after all.

Morgana pushed the boat into the water and cast a spell to light it on fire. Lake funerals were distinctive to the Old Religion. It was only right she made sure the boat was fully consumed by the flames, the ashes sinking into the waters of Avalon.

As she watched the boat burn, she gazed around the lake. It was a pretty view and most of the shore was undisturbed. Not many came to visit, she presumed. Magic had a way of hiding itself, of pushing or pulling people away. Morgana knew she was lucky to have found it.

Saying prayers to the Triple Goddess and blessings to the Sidhe and the soul entering Avalon, Morgana left.

It nibbled at her mind, the half burnt boat. The knight’s cloak had been placed there after the first fire. Had the knight not been there for the funeral? Why not? Where was the body?

They were minor curiosities and Morgana found herself asking Agravaine if he knew anything about it during his next visit.

“It’s rumored that Arthur’s manservant died on a mission a month ago. The body was left there.”

“Merlin? Dead? We tried to kill him before to no avail. Are you saying bandits are what finally killed him?” Morgana asked.

“I’m not sure what happened. None of the knights from that mission are talking.”

Morgana caught Morgause’s eye. The blonde priestess mouthed _control_ and Morgana scrunched up her mouth. She knew she had to ensure that Agravaine stayed in her pocket, but she disliked doing it.

She leaned forward into her uncle’s space. “You have a talent for learning secret truths.” Her voice was sweet and she dared a quick touch to the back of his hand. “Please, tell us what you found out.”

“Ahem.” He tried to brush off the praise but failed. “I do think something happened on that mission. Merlin and Lancelot didn’t return with the rest of the knights and the group split. Arthur did something that half the knights didn’t like. Or rather, I think _Merlin_ did something. And half the knights support him instead of the prince.”

“Merlin?” Morgause laughed. “He’s nothing special. How could he command such loyalty?”

Agravaine shook his head. “I can’t say. But whatever he did, Arthur didn’t like it. He sent knights to Merlin’s hometown to capture him, but they came back empty handed. And then the horse he rode came back covered in blood.”

Morgana shared a look with her sister and ventured her own guess. “Merlin was injured.”

“Fatally. Gaius cleaned out the boy’s chambers and uses it for patients. The strange thing is, it’s seemed to make some of the knights angrier at Arthur. Training sessions were brutal. Arthur stopped going this week. Sir Leon heads the knights now.”

“And how does Arthur fare, now that his manservant is dead?” Morgana asked.

“It’s hard to say, he hides his emotions well these days. He’s become closed off. Sometimes I think he’s angry and others I feel he experiences true grief for Merlin’s death. Regardless, I know he eats very little and rarely focuses in council sessions.”

Morgana grinned. “The Arthur I remember only hides his emotions when they are deep. He sounds despondent. What a lovely situation to take advantage of.”

Morgause caught her wrist. “We’re not ready to properly attack Camelot. We don’t have the men or enough support of the nobles. Now is not the time to be hasty, sister.”

“I agree. It’s too early to claim the throne. But I don’t see why we can’t increase my dear brother’s misery. We can put my potion lessons to the test.”

* * *

The castle had been on edge for almost a month. Everyone had noticed the returning knight’s party was down two members. Everyone had noticed the split between the Knights of the Round Table.

Being the sister of one of them, many of the castle’s servants pulled her aside in the hallway and asked for the gossip.

“I’m not telling anything,” Gwen told them all. In truth, she didn’t know what to tell.

All Gwen knew was that it had something to do with Merlin. That Lancelot had chosen Merlin over Arthur, as had Gwaine and Percival. Even when she had begged Elyan to tell her what had happened, her brother shook his head.

“It’s a big, scary thing, Gwen. I don’t want to burden you with it.”

But someone had told Gaius. Why couldn’t someone tell her?

She hated the divide between Merlin and Arthur, but knowing it was difficult for the prince did what she could to support him.

Especially after the funeral.

It had been surprising, that none of the knights told Arthur when it was going to be. It had been even more so when she peeked in on Arthur the evening after and found him sobbing while holding a belt in his left hand.

“Arthur?” she gently asked, closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t want him dead, Gwen. I…I never wanted him dead. And now – now I can’t say I’m sorry. Or that I understand. I can’t stand the idea that he died thinking the worst of me.”

“Oh, Arthur.” She rushed up to give him a hug. Gwen still had no idea what had happened, but she had her first clue. Arthur had done something to Merlin and that broke her heart more than knowing her friend was dead.

Arthur and Merlin, though they would never admit it out loud, were best friends. What had happened had to be beyond awful.

She didn’t know what to say to Arthur, what words to calm him down and relieve his fears. Gwen didn’t know enough. So she held him while he sobbed into her shoulder and put him to bed when he exhausted himself.

The next day, Arthur gave no sign of his breakdown. His face was cool, impassive, and he went about his duties. But Gwen felt as if something had broken inside of him.

And now it seemed, a full month after Lancelot and Merlin had failed to return, the castle gossip hit the nail on the head. Gone were the speculations of what happened to Merlin and Lancelot. Gone were the whispers about the angry glares Gwaine sent Arthur’s way. Now what filled the halls was the sorrow that came with the understanding that Merlin was not coming back.

The spare room in Gaius’s room was cleaned, the door always open. The man was quiet. Arthur was cold.

This time, when Gwen was pulled aside for comment on the gossip she could confirm it.

“Yes, Merlin’s dead.”

“No, I don’t know how he died.”

“No, I don’t know if this means Lancelot will return, but I hope so.”

Merlin, it appeared, had been many people’s best friends. Arthur’s. Gwen’s. Gwaine’s. Several of the new servants said how willing Merlin had been to help them.

It seemed, since the staff was nervous of approaching Arthur or the knights and didn’t want to trouble Gaius, they all decided to give their platitudes to Gwen. It made her already draining days outright exhausting.

To help cheer her up, Elyan took her to a tavern for dinner. “You look awful, Gwen. No doubt you’d go home, not feel up to cooking, and fall asleep without supper. Again. No, tonight we’re going out.”

They went to the Rising Sun, but it was early enough in the evening to avoid the drunks. Elyan paid, though she protested, and Gwen found herself relaxing after a cup of wine and a thick stew. She saw her brother every day in the castle, but it was nice to have a conversation with Elyan that wasn’t pressed for time or related to their duties.

“That’s our cue to leave.” Elyan nodded towards the door.

Gwen turned around to see Gwaine enter, Percival ducking in behind him.

“Elyan, I know you and them are a bit at odds-“

“No, no. That’s cleared up. But if Gwaine’s here that means the less respectable crowd will be right behind him. You shouldn’t be here when they are. ”

“I’m a big girl, Elyan.”

“But still my sister. Come on, Gwen. I’ll walk you home.”

“Okay.”

They left, waving to the other knights as they walked by, and slowly made their way to Gwen’s house.

“Did you want to stay tonight? I know your chambers in the citadel are nicer, but I wouldn’t say no to company,” Gwen said.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Elyan apologized, “I’m on watch later.”

“That’s okay then.”

They got to the house and Elyan went through the large room to light all the candles for her.

“Elyan,” she began, watching him light the last candle. “Since, since Merlin’s gone-“ Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and began again. “Since Merlin’s gone, can you tell me what happened on that mission?”

“I-“

“Please, Elyan. He was friend.”

With a sigh, her brother sat at the table. Gwen took the spot across from him.

“You didn’t hear this from me, okay? And there’s parts of it I still don’t get, but I’ll tell you what I know.”

She nodded encouragingly.

“We went to find out what was causing people to disappear and ran into a sorceress. She made her living casting truth spells on travelers and selling their secrets. Needless to say, we all got caught in the spell.”

“Of course.”

“Hush, I’m telling a story. She singled out Merlin. Arthur threw him and Lance in the room first, so he wasn’t with the rest of us, and as a servant, she figured he would know the best secrets.”

Gwen clenched her hands into fists, bunching up the fabric of her dress. No, he couldn’t have given up Camelot’s secrets. Arthur had made no efforts to increase their defensives. And giving up such information to a spell would not have caused such a divide in the knights.

She took a guess. “Merlin had a secret he hid from all of you.”

Elyan nodded. “He had magic. And according to the sorceress, was a really powerful sorcerer.”

“No.”

“It’s true. Something about his answers set her off and she attacked, launched this huge fireball at us, but it hit an invisible shield. Merlin cast it, I’m sure. He and Lance,” Elyan shook his head, “Lance knew all along. You could tell how well they fought together, Merlin shouting spells and Lancelot swinging his sword. They killed the sorceress, but we didn’t see the archer. He shot an iron bolt at Merlin, hit him in the thigh.”

“I’ve seen it,” Gwen whispered. Arthur had it his chambers. It sat on his desk as a paperweight. With its faint engravings, she had thought it a curiosity. But to think it had actually been launched from a crossbow –

She helped Gaius during enough crises. She knew what damage a normal bolt could do, but a metal one? Gwen paled.

“Lance grabbed Merlin and ran. Arthur was yelling, he was furious, but the shield held. By the time the spell ended, Lance and Merlin were gone.”

“And that’s why Gwaine and Percival were angry at Arthur. They thought he was going to hurt Merlin.”

“Yeah.”

Gwen fumed. If Arthur even threatened to harm Merlin she would-

Well, it didn’t matter did it. Merlin was dead.

“You think Merlin died from the arrow wound.”

“Lance isn’t a doctor. Gaius said the arrow was enchanted too, turning Merlin’s magic against him, not allowing it to help heal him, causing pain.”

It didn’t sound pleasant.

“Do you think Lancelot will come back?” Gwen asked after a moment.

“I want him to,” Elyan said, “but I’m scared of what Arthur would do. Lance threw away his knight’s vows.”

Gwen recalled Arthur sobbing over a belt. She didn’t think Arthur would hurt Lancelot if he came home.

“Thank you for telling me, Elyan.”

“It never felt right, you as the only one not knowing about Merlin’s talents.”

“Well…”

“Gwen!”

“I suspected he always knew more than he let on. And some of the patients Gaius told him to take care of I thought were going to die. But they didn’t. Merlin’s learning, but he’s – was - not that good of a physician.”

“We all, well, most of us, feel that way. Looking back, there’s no other reason he made it through some of the fights he did.”

They shared a somber smile over the table before Elyan stood up. “I need to report in. You won’t let anyone know you know?”

“I won’t. Promise.”

“Thanks, Gwen.”

“Be safe.”

Merlin had had magic.

She kept going over every single interaction they had. Merlin pulling her into the tent to kiss Arthur at the tourney. His insistence that Lady Catrina was a troll. His, Lord above, confession of magic when her father was cured.

It was because she focused on putting this new understanding of Merlin together with the boy she had known that Uther was poisoned.

Not that it was her job to protect the king. She just served him his meals, tidied his chambers. Gwen did it for Arthur, as she did a lot of things. Uther was not a kind man, Gwen out right hated him, but she could never do him harm. And she could never let any harm come to Arthur, no matter the type of pain.

She regularly checked Uther’s room for anything out of place. Personally knew all the guards stationed at his door. And while she didn’t taste his food and water, always gave it a glance over when delivering it from the kitchen.

That day, she must have forgotten. Too distracted by trying to figure out if Merlin had ever used magic to scrub Arthur’s floor and opening the door to find Agravaine already sitting with the king.

“My lord, I did not expect to see you here.” Gwen set the platter down on the table.

“I know my brother-in-law and I have had our differences in the past, but I never wanted to see him like this.”

“Yes, it’s very sad.”

Gwen walked over to Uther. He was sitting at the window, looking out at the Fall sun. “Come, your majesty. Time for lunch.”

“Let me help you.”

Together, Agravaine and Gwen moved Uther from the small window table to the larger dining one. It wasn’t much, but Gwen knew it was often the only physical activity Uther managed. On good days with pleasant weather, they sometimes managed to walk a few corridors to the Queen’s Garden, but those days were few.

As Gwen placed a fork in Uther hand and brought the platter closer to the table edge, Agravaine brought over the water pitcher.

“You didn’t have to do that, my lord.”

“Please, Guinevere. You were busy and it’s such a small task.” He filled a cup and placed it within Uther’s reach. “Now, I have matters I must attend to.”

Gwen nodded and set about cleaning the room while Uther ate. A sudden wheezing caught her attention. She whirled around to find the king grasping at his throat.

“Your majesty!” Gwen rushed towards him, hands hovering. She didn’t know what to do. “Guards! Send for Gaius!” she yelled through the door.

The doors slammed open, two heads peaking in. One disappeared quickly. The other guard rushed in to help her get

Uther on the bed.

Arthur arrived minutes before Gaius, huffing.

“Guinevere?”

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m sorry.”

And then Gaius was there, taking control of the situation. He didn’t need a helping hand and Gwen felt guilty. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was supposed to take care of Uther for Arthur. She stepped out of the room and rushed to the laundry. They always needed extra hands and Gwen wanted the distraction.

An hour later, the bells started tolling.

* * *

“Arthur, I know you care for her, but it’s her fault your father’s dead!”

Agravaine flung an arm towards the door, towards the rest of the castle.

“Uncle, I do not believe that. Guinevere is just a maid, and a loyal one at that. I do not believe she poisoned my father.”

“She should have prevented it.”

“Uncle!” Arthur shouted.

The other man froze, eyes wide. Arthur collapsed into himself. These past few weeks had been hard. Not even two months had passed between his best friend’s betrayal, said friend’s death, and now his father’s passing too.

"I am saddened by my father's death, Sir Leon and Gaius are looking into the poison used and how my father consumed it. But until both of them say Guinevere is responsible, she will not be punished."

His uncle opened his mouth to speak.

"No more, you're dismissed, Lord Agravaine."

The man bowed and left Arthur's chambers.

Sighing, Arthur threw his head back, the wood digging into his neck. He wanted peace, to allow one crisis to settle before another sprung up. He didn't want to be king.

It was too fast, too soon. True, as regent Arthur had been king in all but crown the past few month, but there had been things he put off. He had focused on the current, pressing issues and left decisions regarding long term plans on his desk. Uther was supposed to get better and make those calls, or at least gain a bit of lucidity to help.

Now, he only had Agravaine to look to. Agravaine was the only advisor who had recently managed the day to day operations of land and its subjects, the only one who had experience with what Arthur needed to do on a daily basis, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Gaius had a good head on his shoulders, but he had never managed men. The knights at the table were either sons whose older relatives looked over their lands or older men whose spouses handled local concerns while they sat at court. The advice they gave Arthur was either based on theories and studies or experiences so long ago Arthur didn’t know if they were relevant.

Still, there were times he wondered where Agravaine’s head was. His advice and direction was sound – he had yet to steer Arthur towards a bad decision. Agravaine’s morals, on the other hand, left something to desire.

Blaming Guinevere for something that wasn’t even her job! There was no grounding for that. He couldn’t believe his uncle had suggested such thing. Especially as he hadn’t been shy about his affections for Guinevere.

Arthur took a deep breath. His heart had exploded in his chest as soon as Agravine had mentioned punishing her. He had lost his father, lost –

Lost too many. He wasn’t going to lose Guinevere. Elyan was only now losing the frostiness that had been in their conversations the past few weeks. Arthur didn’t think he could handle the strain of Guinevere being gone and his knights at odd with him again.

Not for the first time, did he miss his manservant. George was a true professional and had been looking after all his needs with an impeccableness that was almost magical, though Arthur knew better. George, however, failed at the things Arthur wanted the most – a listening ear and honest thoughts.

If Gwaine was in a better mood, Arthur would talk to him. But Gwaine didn’t want to see him. To be honest, Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to see the knight either. Every time Arthur looked at the knight, he felt like a failure.

He shook his head and refocused on the papers in front of him. They were the steps of the ceremony for his coronation tomorrow. A day of pomp and circumstance he didn’t want.

Every time he had imaged taking the throne, he had been older and wiser. More importantly, it had been Merlin who had been with him every step of the way. That was no longer possible.

* * *

Agravaine found Gwen amongst a small group of maids heading to the servants’ stairs to watch the coronation from above.

“Gwen, may I talk to you?”

“Certainly, my lord.” She shooed her friends before her and came to stand before him.

“I will make this quick, I am due in the Great Hall.”

“Of course.”

“Gwen, it pains me to say this, but you’re banished from Camelot.”

“What?”

He could see her life crumble in his mind. Agravaine hid his smile behind a compassionate face. “I am sorry. But ultimately it is your fault that King Uther is dead. It wasn’t intentional, which is why you get to keep your life, but you must be gone by tomorrow morning.”

“Why wouldn’t Arthur tell me himself?”

“Why _would_ the King Regent take time from this busy day to speak to you? His hours have been filled. But now that this decision has been made, we want you gone.”

“But it wasn’t me, my lord. I just brought the late king his meals – “

“And failed to see that is was poisoned. And if you fail to leave Camelot before tomorrow morning, I’m sad to say I’d have to have the guards arrest you and you’ll hang before the week’s end.”

She paled and fell into a curtsy. “Excuse me. I – I must pack my things.”

Gwen scurried away.

Agravaine watched her, smiling. Morgana and Morgause hadn’t said who to blame for Uther’s poisoning, though he suspected they would have preferred Gaius. Gwen was a better scapegoat due to her relationship with Arthur. That was the plan after all, make Arthur stressed to the point where cracks would form in Camelot that the sorceresses could take advantage of. Getting rid of Gwen meant Arthur would start his reign on the wrong foot.

Morgana would praise him for this.

* * *

She paused at the knock on her door. “Yes?”

“Guinevere? Can I come in?”

Her bundle of smalls fell out of her hand and she cursed. “Give me a minute!”

After stuffing the garments in her basket, she rushed to the door. She stopped with her hand on the handle. Arthur had banished her. He had come to say goodbye. This was the last time they would see each other. Gwen couldn’t stop the sob that pushed past her lips.

“Guinevere?” Arthur’s concerned voice came through the wood. He’d heard.

Quickly, she brushed at her eyes. Gwen unlatched the door and returned to her packing, leaving Arthur to let himself in. “Come to say goodbye, then?”

“Goodbye? Guinevere, are you packing?”

“Of course I’m packing, Arthur! I have to be gone by morning!”

“Why?”

She turned to stare at him, hands on her hips. Instantly, she knew something was wrong. Arthur was still dressed in his coronation clothes and he blinked at her through drunk eyes. He was genuinely confused.

“He made the decision without you.”

“Who did?”

“Agravaine. He approached me just before the ceremony, told me I was banished for my role in Uther’s death. I had the impression he had the council’s support.”

“Guinevere, I promise you, I had no awareness of this. My uncle came to me before about the subject, but I told him it was ridiculous. There was no proof. You’re not banished.”

As welcoming as that statement was, Gwen wasn’t fully relieved.

“Arthur, he promised to arrest and kill me if I wasn’t gone by tomorrow morning. Obviously, he wants me gone quickly. Arthur, your uncle just went behind your back. And if I show up in the citadel tomorrow, I worry about what will happen.”

“I can’t believe Agravaine would do such a thing. I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow. But you’re right,” Arthur gently took Gwen’s hands in his, “for some reason my uncle wants you gone. I couldn’t bare it though. Let’s say…you’re banished from the citadel, but not the city. Stay, find work elsewhere. You’re renting the forge, yes? Maybe you can help there. Or make money with your needlework.”

Gwen pursed her lips. She liked working in the castle. It was as much her home as this place was. Still, she knew going

back was a bad idea now that she had acquired a target on her back.

“Okay.” She gave a firm nod. “I would hate to leave Camelot. I wouldn’t know where to go.”

“I’d probably follow you, anyway.” Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead, but she tilted her head to meet his lips.

After a moment, she pulled away. “If it wasn’t to say goodbye, why did you come to my house at this hour?”

“I didn’t see you today. Not at the ceremony. Or the feast afterwords. I – you and – you and Merlin – “

It broke Gwen’s heart at how painful it was for Arthur to say Merlin’s name. “You two always talked about how good a king I’d be. Not having either of you there felt like an ill omen.”

“Not a good king, a great king.” Gwen said, taking Arthur’s face between her hands. “And that’s on you, not me or Merlin. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but it won’t make a difference in how you rule Camelot. You’ll be the best king the kingdom shall ever know.”

“Thank you, Guinevere.” His voice was thick and sad. Gwen kissed the corner of his eyes where she could see the tears start to gather.

“Come. Sit. I’m too wound up to sleep at the moment and you should sober up a bit before you leave. I’ll boil some water.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Of course not. You’re just swaying.”

Arthur grumbled, but stumbled to the bench and fell on it. Gwen laughed. She was terribly upset she had missed the coronation. She had always dreamed of Arthur as King, and him on his knees in regalia while he said his vows would have been a good parting image. Now, she was glad her time in Camelot wasn’t at an end. Gwen didn’t like the feeling that Agravaine was up to something though, and that she wasn’t in the castle to keep an eye on him. She’d have to talk to Elyan tomorrow.

In the meantime, she could spend some quality time with Arthur. Gwen couldn’t think of a better way to finish a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I now have a very loose outline for this fic. That calls for 14 chapters. Though 1/2 through 13 might make a good ending/beginning for a sequel. I have to decided whether I want to show Albion itself being born, or just Camelot finding it's feet. Hmm. Except well, Merlin's turning prophesy on it's head and Kilgarrah is gonna feel really silly.


	5. Spread Thin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have an inline A/N. Look for the underline.

They did not find the arrow in the castle. Instead, they found two rotting and half eaten bodies in the great room. No one had been by since the knights had left. No one had a reason to, Merlin supposed.

It was a long shot, but he had hoped their horses returned here. It was the closest proper roof. Good thing too because it was raining.

“At least it waited until we got here,” Lancelot said, peering out a window.

“I told you it would,” Merlin answered, continuing to go through the saddlebags. The supplies that Lance pilfered from the other knights weeks ago had remained mostly undisturbed, but some of the provisions had gone bad and mice got to some of the leather.

It was…strange how Merlin had predicted the rain. Anyone would have been able to look at the dark clouds and guess rain for the evening, but Merlin had known the exact time it would fall. He even resisted Lancelot’s efforts to have them walk faster. Knowing when the skies would open wasn’t the only odd thing to happen. Several times he noticed his feet taking him off the road straight to berries or edible roots, just as he was starting to feel hungry.

Merlin had always felt the land – magic came from it after all. The sky and sea and stone. Everyone who had magic could feel it to some extent. But ever since time had restarted after his healing on Avalon’s shores the feeling had been magnified.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. There were three mice hiding in this room, and he knew where every single one was. Merlin suspected, that if he really wanted to, he could stretch his senses out and identify life in a wider radius. He already innately was able to recognize individual plant species and read the weight of clouds. What was next, map out a route through the Valley of the Fallen Kings from his room in Camelot?

Except, he wasn’t ever going back to Camelot was he?

Arthur – Arthur was furious with him. And Lancelot. And Merlin couldn’t blame the prince. Merlin had lied to him, for years and years, keeping his magic a secret for good reason. He hadn’t wanted to put Arthur in the uncomfortable position knowing such facts would put him in. Hadn’t believed their years of knowing each other alone would change Arthur’s view of magic.

And he had been right, hadn’t he? Lancelot said that Arthur was going to drag him back to Camelot a prisoner. And while Merlin had enough faith in Arthur to believe the prince wouldn’t send him to the pyre, Merlin knew it was too much to ask for clemency. _Something_ would happen if he went back. The result would be the same it was now – Merlin cast out and having to fend for himself.

Going back, even briefly just to explain – Merlin flinched from the images. Arthur was a warrior, his first reaction was anger and action.

Besides, what Merlin had told Lancelot the other day was still true. The relationship between Merlin and Arthur was shattered. It would never be the same. Merlin didn’t need the actual pain of realizing that and memories of Arthur’s face from such a stiff meeting. His mind conjured enough images.

Merlin sighed.

Lancelot settled next to him on the stone floor. “Thinking about Arthur again?”

“I know I shouldn’t-“

“Merlin, don’t. You and him, what just happened, it’s huge. It’ll probably be something you think of on and off for the rest of your life.”

Merlin looked at his friend.

“I’m stupid. I should have asked how you’re doing too. I know I’ve known Arthur for longer, but you just ruined your relationship with him too. How are you feeling?”

Lancelot looked at his hands and pressed his lips together.

“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know what I did to deserve your loyalty.”

Lancelot laughed, throwing an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “A lot of things, Merlin. You gave me a shot at my dream, saved my life multiple times-“

“So has Arthur – “

“Arthur didn’t look at me until I showed him that fake seal of nobility. And you – I won’t lie Merlin, you weren’t the first friendly face, or even friend I made on my journey. But until you, no one had gone out of their way for me like that. Forging that seal more than made up for me saving your life when we first met. You were already living under the threat of having magic, and to go and do that too?”

Lancelot shook his head. “Arthur’s changed since I first meet him, even though he was still stupidly noble back then too. But it’s people like you, Merlin, that I want more of in the world. Those willing to help anyone they can, just because. Who will risk themselves to do something right, who are kind and compassionate and brave.”

Merlin blushed. Honestly, he had often felt the same about Lancelot. “Lance-“

“I meant what I said before – you’re a great man. It’s a pity no one tells you that. And if your ears only hear it from me for the next few years, well, at least you’re hearing that.”

Merlin looked at him in shock. “Lance, I have no idea what to do tomorrow, let alone for the next few years. I can’t ask you to stay with me all that time.”

“Nonsense. We’ll travel together, from village to village. I’ve been a sell sword before, I can do it again. And you can be a traveling healer.”

"I-I can't leave the kingdom. I can't be too far from Arthur. And I know our relationship is in shreds but," Merlin shrugged. He didn’t feel up for going back, not yet. But he knew he’d have too. "Destiny is a hard thing to push against."

Lancelot frowned at him.

"Look, I don't understand either. But Arthur and I, we don't have to like each other to be connected. Just like him and Mordred."

"Who's Mordred?"

Merlin winced. "According to a few prophecies, the one who kills Arthur. And I can't let that happen. Albion…Albion has to be born."

Lancelot stared at him some more, before shaking his head. "Yeah, well, leaving Camelot for a little while, a few months maybe, might be a good idea. Let Arthur cool his head."

"Maybe."

"Think on it. For now, let's get some sleep."

They woke the next morning to find themselves not the only ones in the ruined castle. At least, Merlin could feel the other life forms as he laid in the small room, Lancelot breathing next to him. He counted them one by one and came up with 28 sparks of life. In his mind’s eyes, they took on different hues. Some were white, but most were a brushed gold.

Magic users, he realized. Druids had come to the castle during the night.

Merlin shook Lancelot awake. "Lance, we have company."

The man rolled quickly to his feet, hand on his hilt. At Merlin's snort, Lancelot turned around in confusion.

"Pleasant company, Lance. I think. If I'm right, there's a bunch of Druids camped in the courtyard."

"Druids? Why would they come here?"

"You can ask them yourself."

Merlin took the knight's offered hand and stood. A quick touch of magic removed the wrinkles from their clothes and another burst summoned only partly hard cheese from a pouch. Nibbling, Merlin led the way to the people he sensed.

He was relieved to see they were actually Druids. His guess had been an educated one, but it was nice to see it confirmed. As soon as Merlin stepped from the castle and into the open area where the women were cooking, all chatter stopped.

It was a bit unnerving. All the stares.

"Hello." Merlin waved. "I'm-"

"We know who you are, Emrys."

A Druid stood up from where he had been sitting near a few children. Tanned, with ill kept silver hair, Merlin recognized Iseldir.

"I keep meaning to ask you why you're so sure I'm Emrys, but I have a feeling I now know why."

"And why is that?" Iseldir asked with a smile.

Merlin closed his eyes, again seeing the glow of the people around him. He was surprised to see Lancelot was neither white nor gold, but a deep blue. Something to figure out later. For now, he scanned the gold lights, the magic users. The forms ranged in brightness and size. Comparing it to the people in front of him, Merlin knew the lights didn't reflect a person's physical form – it showed the strength of their magic.

"I can see it now, things I didn't realize where there to be seen. Auras."

Iseldir nodded.

"I can't see myself though. When you look at me, how does my magic look?"

"Where the rest of us are merely pillars of light, you're a roaring fire, Emrys. Your magic stretches as tall as a tree and as bright as a star. It is blinding. It's difficult for us to use our own mind's eye when you are near."

"Sorry-"

"It's nothing to be sorry for."

Lancelot coughed into a fist. Merlin shot him a glare.

"Come, eat." Iseldir gestured to one of the cooking pots. Merlin had to admit, it did smell wonderful. "We came here, to you, for a reason. But that can wait for an hour."

Breakfast wasn't fancy by any means, but it still beat out Gaius's porridge. Merlin should never had praised it that first week.

He was vaguely aware of the other Druids giving them, well, just him he supposed, a wide berth. Merlin, Lancelot, and Iseldir were left to eat in peace. Sort of. Just like every time he had come across Druid groups, they silently stared at Merlin. No greetings, mental or otherwise came his way. As always, this group said little and never strayed from the point.

Which for now, was breakfast.

As soon as he was finished however, Iseldir leaned forward. “Emrys, you should know that we are here for you.”

“I guessed.” Druids out of the forest? Taking shelter in a place with walls, even as run down as these, was rare. “What do you wish to tell me?”

Iseldir smiled. “It’s more of we are seeking reassurance from you. The land cried out in sorrow and informed those who could hear it that you were dying. When we saw your aura yesterday for the first time in weeks, we wanted to see you.”

Merlin blushed. Having the Druids think so highly of him was a bit mortifying. He was just Merlin – destiny aside. His magic made him special, okay, very special. But he was still just a simple farm boy at heart. That strangers were so anxious and worried for him – it reminded Merlin of the time people had stood vigil for Arthur after he had been injured by the Questing Beast. Merlin didn’t like the feeling.

With a smile, he spread his arms out. “As you can see, I’m doing reasonably well. Nothing a few good meals won’t fix.”

“We are glad to see that. Your passing would have brought about a great mourning.”

Merlin shifted, once again uncomfortable.

“But tell me, Emrys, why are you here and not with the Future King? You rarely stray so far from him.”

Merlin glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged as if to say _tell only what you want to._ Strangely, Merlin did want to tell his story. Lancelot would never fully understand the call of destiny, or the weight it placed on Merlin’s shoulders. And today, that weight felt heavier than normal.

“Arthur found out about my magic and no longer trusts me. In time, I’ll return to Camelot to earn his favor again. But for now…” He shrugged. Maybe a travelling healer wasn’t that bad of an idea.

“Would you be willing to come with us?”

“Come with you?”

“You said it yourself, Emrys. You can see and sense things you haven’t before. You ordeal has shifted your magic. Now is the time to test it and relearn you limits. I offer assistance in that.”

It was a tempting offer. Merlin had never, never had free reign to practice his magic to his heart’s content. And how often had his knowledge of the Old Religion been shown lacking? It was a sudden, crazy idea – living with the Druids – but suddenly Merlin fiercely wanted to do it.

“If it’s okay with you, Lance?”

“I told you, I’m following you on this Merlin.”

It if were just the two of them, Merlin would have blown him a raspberry.

“Thank you for your offer Iseldir. I humbly accept.”

* * *

Magic lessons, Lancelot learned, were boring to watch. He had expected to actively see Merlin throw spells around, knock apples out of trees or grow flowers. Instead, it was a lot of Merlin sitting on the ground and breathing.

Merlin tried to explain it – how he was learning not spells but rather about the core of magic. How to feel it, draw it into himself, shape it. Finding his affinity was hard, all Druids seemed to have some specialty, but Merlin was special in every way. Iseldir finally proposed Merlin didn’t have an affinity, being made of magic itself.

Land given life, magic given life. Merlin was a living myth and it was obvious in how the Druids interacted with him. Merlin got the best sleep spot, the first bowl of stew. People didn’t bow to him, but they stayed out of his way and kept their distance.

A social chatter at heart, Merlin was having a hard time with the lack of conversation. Entertaining kids with conjured butterflies was one thing. Intelligent conversation was another. Though really, it was more like Merlin spat out his learnings for the day and Lancelot nodded along.

He spent his own days training and plotting. Staying with the Druids, camped out in the woods, was good for Merlin but no means a permanent option. It was halfway through autumn and soon the camp would leave for warmer lands. Merlin, Lancelot knew, wouldn’t want to go with them. Nor was he thinking about where to winter.

The task fell to the knight. It had been awhile, maybe it was safe now to go to Ealdor and stay with Merlin’s mother for the winter. If they wanted to do that, they would have to let Hunith know. It was a big difference between feeding one person and three – they would have to help in some way.

If not, there were other cities. Camelot and its self-named capitol were the largest in the kingdom, but if Merlin refused to leave its borders there were other, smaller places they might be able to take shelter in for a few months. And if not that, then Nemeth perhaps. There was a decent sized city there near the border. Pity Merlin would not want to go far south to Helva. Lancelot had always wished to visit, and with a sorcerer by his side he would be comfortable doing so.

Merlin however, like usual, had no sense of self-preservation.

“I want to spend winter in Camelot. The city,” he said at dinner that night.

Lancelot choked on a tater. “No, absolutely not,” he said once he had access to air again.

“Well, why not?”

“It’s not safe, that’s for one!” He hadn’t told Merlin yet, but a Druid informed Lancelot knights had been sent out looking for Merlin. Awhile ago, and only once, but it was enough.

“Merlin, I know you want to stay close to Arthur to protect him, but right now I think you need protecting from him. Maybe he has the city on alert, looking for you in case you return. I’m pretty sure there’s a dungeon cell with our names on it. And all that stuff you said about, about not wanting to see Arthur’s face when he looks at you. You’re bound to run into him, see him, at Camelot.”

“How else am I going to protect him, Lance?”

“He’s been fine so far. There hasn’t been any news of something happening to Arthur. And you being you, I’m sure if something had you’d notice.”

With a defeated air, Merlin sighed. “Probably. It’s just, I’ve never been away from him for so long.”

“He lived roughly twenty years without you.”

“But now there’s Morgana. And Morgause. And, well I don’t trust Agravaine either.”

“Giving things time to settle is smart. Next year, maybe we’ll winter in the city. Once Arthur has had a chance to cool his head. This year? Let me worry about it, okay? I know the area better.”

Merlin huffed. “Okay.”

* * *

Merlin woke with a gasp. It was a common, well nightmare might be too strong of a word. Nightmares were dreams of flames, of Druids screaming in pain or Arthur lying still. This dream, it made him sad. And hate himself just a little bit.

_I’m not going to apologize for who I am. You can be a servant and…and pretend to be less than him but I’m not. You’re protecting men who would have you dead, and you lie about it. You say you’re protecting us, but you’ve been pretending so long now, you’ve actually forgotten who you are. It’s time someone struck a blow for the likes of you and me. And if you’re too weak, I will._

Waking from such a dream in Camelot, Merlin would take in a shuddering breath and picture Arthur. Arthur, who he was destined to protect. Arthur, who he gave everything for. And Merlin would tell himself it was worth it – Arthur was safe, he’d be a great king, and life would be better.

It was hard to think such things now.

Not just because Arthur no longer trusted him, not because Merlin was too far away to protect him. It was because Gilli had been right and Merlin was sleeping amongst the proof.

It had be so easy to think that by helping Arthur, he was also helping those with magic. Because Arthur was destined to help them. And Merlin still believed that, he did. But in the years he had spent at Camelot, there was no hint of progress. The Druids were still persecuted. Those with herb knowledge disappeared.

Logically, Merlin knew he couldn’t do a lot. He couldn’t repeal the ban on magic. There were still chances though; he could have freed more Druids, gotten involved in Gaius’s network and sent those with magic to safety. He could have kept the Cup of Life safe, and saved kingdoms pain and death.

_You’ve actually forgotten who you are._

And what had Freya said?

_Remember, Merlin. You are Emrys._

The problem was, he didn’t know much about ‘Emrys’. The Druids called him that, prophecies spoke of his power and task. But other than that? Nothing. It was simply a list of obligations. Another job.

He’d, honestly, rather be a stable-boy and have to muck the stalls daily. The magnitude of being Emyrs made him wonder if it was similar to what Arthur felt as Prince Regent. But, well, being a prince gave Arthur power to do what he wanted, aiding villages outside of Camelot’s borders and rushing to a friend’s aid despite Uther’s decrees. Arthur slept well at night. Merlin … Merlin had made choices that would always stay with him.

And he would always, always wonder _what if Freya and I really had left?_

The answer – freedom and peace.

It was something Merlin was beginning to think he would never have.

Suppressing a shudder, Merlin rolled to his feet. At this point, his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. He might as well walk around the camp, maybe practice a few spells.

Lancelot shifted, but after turning over settled down again. The Druids had given them one of the few tents, something Merlin had protested to no avail. Taking care to keep the warm air in, Merlin slipped out.

The air was chilly, but not enough to send him into the tent for his coat. Merlin stepped around sleeping bodies and gave a nod of acknowledgement to a group three women sitting around embers.

He didn’t go far from the camp’s edge, just to a strong oak the kids liked to climb during the day. Merlin climbed, using his magic to create feet and handholds, and then support him on a thin upper branch. There was an orange leaf in front of his face and Merlin found he knew exactly when the whole tree would be colored and when the last leaf would fall.

He’d spent weeks with the Druids, learning to feel for magic and understand it, but his new awareness of nature still surprised Merlin. Unnerved him too, for no one else had his sensitivity.

Merlin practiced conjuring. Calling something into being required energy and a strong mental image, and it usually quickly faded. Merlin’s record for a conjured flower was three hours, but he’d managed of all things a cooking pot yesterday. Made of copper and heavy, it existed for twenty minutes. Not enough time to use it, sadly. Lancelot had like the idea of Merlin conjuring supplies to lighten their load. They had no horses now, after all.

_::Emrys?::_

I was Iseldir calling out, no doubt he noticed Merlin had left the tent.

_::In the oak::_ he sent back.

A moment later, Iseldir stood on the forest floor beneath him. He could have been any Druid, but the sheen of silver hair was a giveaway. As was the Druid’s aura. It had always been one of the tallest at the camp, but slowly had been taking on a blue tint.

Destiny touched, Iseldir had said the color meant. If he had any issues shouldering destiny, he had kept them hidden. Then again, Merlin didn’t know what the Druid’s destiny could be.

_::What troubles you?::_ Iseldir sent.

At this point, they could speak out loud. Iseldir was close enough. But the night was quiet and he didn’t want to risk waking anyone.

_::I know nothing of Albion but it’s name.::_

_::And you wonder what it is you have sacrificed for.::_

No, Merlin did it all for Arthur. He knew that. But others, Gilli and the Druids, they thought he did it for Albion.

_::Can you tell me about Albion? What does your lore say?::_

A burst of laughter sounded in Merlin’s head. _::I see we need to instruct you in the ways of our people, not just in magic, Emrys. Do you truly know nothing of Albion?::_

_::I know it is the greater piece of land. Not the whole island, and with different borders then the Five Kingdoms, but what those borders were or why people want Albion to form again I don’t know::_

Iseldir leaned against the tree trunk, looking towards the camp. Merlin noticed the three women from before were gone now, hopefully asleep after what had woken them.

_::There are different versions of Albion. In the past, she was a single country. I cannot show you the borders on a map of today. We sense them with magic, and Albion spans many kingdoms. Her borders often don’t align with those of modern kings.::_

Merlin pushed himself against the tree and cast a silent warming spell, under the impression he had to settle in for a long tale.

_::Back then, there was harmony between people. The king bedded the land every year in ritual. Albion was respected. And named. And magic worked side by side with members of the court. Because of the magic, and direct acknowledgement of the land, Albion became sentient.::_

_::Sentient?::_

Iseldir tilted his head back to look at Merlin. He stared a long while before turning his attention to the forest.

_::Sentient. Albion developed her own desires, kings had to please her or the crops would not grow. As history progressed, and the Last King sat on Albion’s throne and began losing land to Vortigen, Albion’s voice quieted. Never silent though. Albion is the land, is the magic you draw upon. Have you not noticed that during our studies? How the earth feels different from you?::_

_::I have never thought of where my magic comes from, other than inside myself. When I need the power, it is often there even if I can’t guide it to do what I want. You showed me how to gather more of it, from earth, but it was simply that – more. As if I thought I had finished my soup and peered into the bowl to find it untouched.::_

Iseldir didn’t say anything for a moment. _::For us, we draw on the magic of others or Albion if we need it. But we always knew you were special, Emrys. You are connected to the land, you **are** magic. Druids and other users simply use it._

_::Regardless, it was Albion as magic that gave the Druids the prophecies of you and the Once and Future King. It was Albion that decided now was the time to make them come true. We had puzzled over them for centuries – magic was free. Why did it have to be returned to the land? It was only after Constantine Pendragon declared a dislike for it, and later Uther’s ban on it, that magic had to be hidden. Uther convinced four other kingdoms to ban magic, and many on it’s borders pushed it to the dark._

_::It’s only been twenty three years, Emrys. To think I will see magic fall and then rise is nothing I expected. We believed there was going to be a century of no magic. A time for a child to be born and die without being able to use their talents. You came sooner than we thought. Why Albion choose you and why she choose Arthur, we don’t know. But we are glad for it.::_

_::And the Albion from the prophesy? A return to the ancient borders and magic on equal footing with any trade?::_

_::Yes. What have you been imaging?::_

_::Nothing concrete. Just the idea of freedom. Of openness. Of trust. I see the world I want to live in, sitting at the Round Table as Arthur’s magical advisor. Protecting him openly with my power. Being able to snuff out the candles for bed and not worry it would get me killed.::_

_::Then that is what you will build. First in Camelot, and then in other places. The Albion of the future might be smaller, but it will have the same core. Open, respected magic. The land being acknowledged. Peace::_

_::It will not be easy. So many fear us. There will have to be laws and guidelines, I want to know the old rites. We have to show we mean no harm, we have to change people’s minds-::_

The idea of being free had always kept Merlin going, but now it was more than that. It was what Gilli had said. About being recognized, appreciated. Proud of who and what you were. Things Merlin desired for himself, magic aside.

There was a warmth along his back, under his palm, as the tree gave off heat. Suddenly, Merlin could see the gold of magic everywhere, hovering above people and leaves. It stretched and stretched, Merlin could _see_ the boundaries of Albion. Gedreth, Nemeth, Camelot, Essiter, The Perilous Lands. South, west, east, north. He could see veiled women being crowned with green laurels, white mares in open pastures, hear his name being shouted and prayed and begged and whispered. _Albion, bless us. Albion, take this gift. Albion, treat us well this year._

_::Emrys. Emrys!::_

It was the sensation of falling that jerked Merlin back to this body, just in time to see the knotted roots coming up to hit him. Time froze, Merlin almost suspended in the air except he was still falling. Just slowly. A burst of magic flipped him from horizontal to vertical. When time resumed, he landed harshly on his feet, the impact jarring his shins and landing him on his rump.

Iseldir was at his side in an instant, pulling Merlin to his feet. _::Are you okay? Do you know who are? Where?::_

Disregarding the peculiarity of the question, Merlin answered. _::I'm Merlin and we're in the forests near Camelot’s eastern border.::_

Iseldir gave him a searching look, then nodded. _::Rest, Emrys. Tomorrow we can talk about the rites of old.::_

 _::Goodnight.::_ Merlin returned and made his way back to the tent he shared with Lancelot.

It was only as he resettled onto his bedroll did he allow himself to pick at Iseldir's question. And it scared him to realize that yes, for a small bit of time, he had lost himself in the wider expanse of Albion’s magic. For a second, he hadn’t been Merlin.

* * *

"I want to go home," Merlin whispered to Lancelot.

He shook his head. "I told you, it’s too soon for us to return to Camelot, even disguised."

"No, not Camelot. Ealdor. We're not that far."

Lancelot had never been to Ealdor, though he knew Merlin had been born there and raised as an herbalist’s bastard son. Merlin didn’t talk about the village much, a combination of being away for so long and lack of a village to talk about, Lancelot assumed. But he knew it was on the eastern border of Camelot. And at this point, safe for a visit even if Lancelot didn’t want to winter there, regardless as to whether or not Hunith could feed them.

Villages were always cold and drafty during the winter. He was leaning towards the nearby fort instead. Merlin’s healer skills would be appreciated, and one could never have too many swords.

"Why now?"

"I..." Merlin looked towards an oak tree, filled with Druid children. "I need something grounding me. All this talk about being Emrys makes me just want to be Merlin. And what better place for that then where I was born?"

Lancelot supposed that was true.

"We can't go now," Merlin continued. "I have a few more things I want to learn, and it would be impolite to leave so suddenly. But maybe a week?"

A week would do. Lancelot nodded. "We should send a message to your mother, too. We're close enough I'm sure someone -"

He broke off at Merlin’s grin.

"We don't need a someone. I'm so in tune with everything now, I'm sure I can convince a bird or squirrel to deliver a note."

"Can you actually do that?" Lancelot asked.

"Well, a squirrel might be a bit much. Mom would think it was going after the harvest. But Druids use crows and ravens all the time. I'm just...not limited to them."

Considering all Lancelot knew about Merlin and who he really was, Lancelot wasn’t that surprised. He supposed, if he really wanted to, Merlin could get trees and flowers to deliver messages. Not that Lance understood how a flower could tell Hunith to expect two for dinner. But he suspected a flower could tell Merlin if his mum was home.

He repressed his shudder. That type of power was scary. A person could see all the movement of people in a kingdom, observe enemy movements in war.

If Merlin were any other man, he could found Albion alone and declare himself the Once and Future King.

Except, Lancelot realized, Merlin wouldn’t have to do it alone. How many times had he seen a Druid defer to Merlin? Or do a simple task for him based on a whimsical statement? Merlin had an army of Druids, if he wanted it.

But all he did want was the comforts of familiar things. Lancelot couldn’t begrudge him that. And if he had to deal with winter in a mud house, at least Merlin could keep it warm.

"Thank you for agreeing to go. Like I said, I just need to find me. Plain me. My head's a little messed up."

"You've been through a lot."

"And I have a feeling there’s still more to come." Merlin hesitated, biting his lip. "I want to write Arthur a letter too."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? He might hate me, be really angry and never want to see me again, but last time he saw me I was pretty injured."

Lancelot flinched at the memory of Merlin’s wounds. The blistered shoulder, the swollen, purple, leaking thigh. Merlin had been dying. Lancelot supposed it wouldn't hurt to let Arthur know they were alive and okay. If not Arthur, the other knights. Gwaine, Lancelot was sure, was frantic about Merlin and Percival would be concerned about Lancelot.

"I won't tell you what to do Merlin, but maybe address the letter to Gaius? Or Gwaine? Word will get around well enough."

"Maybe you're right. I'll be careful about what I write too. There's been no word of a bounty for either of us, but I think you're right and laying low for the rest of the year is the beat idea."

Lancelot clapped his friend on the back. "Glad we agree. Let's talk to who we need to talk to before heading out in a few days’ time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ug, this chapter took more out of me than I expected. But here you go. Next chapter, Merlin/Lance will reconnect with the Camelot gang. Promise.
> 
> Gilli's words, for that's who I'm sorta quoting in Merlin's dreams, have always resonated with me. Especially as the series goes on and Merlin more and more often puts Arthur first. He starts putting aside his own needs and wants, mirrored by many of the magical community, for Arthur's sake. Gilli sees the signs very early on and calls Merlin out on it in a way no one else ever does, not even Gaius. I always wished that had a bigger significance in the fandom.


	6. Birds of a Feather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said on Tumblr I'd get this up the Fourth. But hey, a day late is okay, right? This chapter really went in places I hadn't expected, and was longer than expected. 'Chapter 6' as it existed in my head is now two chapters. 
> 
> Sorry for those of you who wanted to see Hunith and Lance interact - that's now in chapter 8.

Gwaine frowned as he looked up at the trees and the patrol made its way down the road. There was a bit of orange and yellow amongst the green, signs that fall was around the corner and soon the harvest would be coming in. He liked harvest, it meant patrols were used to escort village taxes to the city and gave Gwaine plenty of opportunities to woo a lady or three. This year though…

This year, the shift of seasons was depressing.

Time was passing.

Merlin wouldn’t see this harvest. And it was beginning to look like Lancelot wouldn’t be joining them this year either. Percival had said Lance would return to Camelot by harvest. Three months away was more than enough time for Arthur to cool down. And with Merlin dead, there was no reason to stay away.

Having Lancelot in the city would be welcome. Arthur was king now and every day of his reign had been worrisome. Agravaine was scheming, what no one knew, but something was brewing in Camelot. Gwaine found himself watching everyone and trusting very few.

Another friend wouldn’t be amiss.

Especially since he was missing another.

“Sir Gwaine!”

He snapped his attention to the head of the column at Sir Kay’s shout.  Gwaine had been too busy thinking to notice his horse had slowed and he was trailing behind the other three knights by a few length.

Giving Kay a charming smile, Gwaine clucked and sped up his gelding.

Four months ago, he would have lead a patrol himself. But, well. He wasn’t leaving Camelot, not leaving Arthur in this mess despite the lingering anger towards the monarch. His ‘falling out’ with Arthur, as Gwen called it, meant his status as a premier knight had disappeared. Neither he, nor Percival, led patrols anymore.

Honestly, Gwaine didn’t know if that was an Arthur thing, or a Leon thing.

With Arthur, things were pleasant enough. They talked business, shared a laugh when a trainee fell. It wasn’t the same, that undercurrent of betrayal and Arthur’s new duties in the way. But it wasn’t Leon’s stone gaze and cold shoulder.

Arthur wouldn’t talk about Merlin, about magic.

Leon wouldn’t out right talk about either topic, but he made comments and innuendos about loyalty and the dangers of magic. He’d gotten a servant fired a month ago. George hadn’t actually used magic to polish sets of armor, but the charge had scared the staff and the steward let him go.

Elyan had overheard the scolding Arthur gave Leon. The fight against magic was not a priority. Figuring out what Agravaine was up to, was.

It didn’t stop Leon from glaring daggers at the pages.

And it made training sessions more interesting. Leon had decided early on it would be useless to force Percival into submission. The lawn was the only place Leon and Gwaine actually talked to each other, in snarls and growls.

Gwaine sighed. He took no pleasure in this ride through turning leaves. He was actually looking forward to a round with Leon. He was missing Lance, missing Merlin, and the tension kept piling.

“That’s odd.”

Gwaine looked up. There were two birds overhead, flying in a single file line. Not uncommon, except for the fact these were birds of prey. Hawks never flew so close together.

All four knights stopped their horses to watch the birds come close. They banked, descending as they spiraled down from the skies. Odd, just as Kay had said. Odder still as they circled tighter to descended, approaching the knights.

The birds were close enough to see distinguishing features. Brown and white spotted underwings, brown and white stripped tail wings, a small wing span for a bird of prey. Not hawks, falcons, and easy to identify because the royal mews had a few. Merlins.

These didn’t belong to the mews. There were no jesses. They came from the East, and there was no one on the road who could be a falconer.

Wild birds.

Acting in an unnatural way.

Gwaine couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. It was loud and sudden, spooking his horse and causing the rest of the knights to look at him.

“What’s so funny?” Sir Morold asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, looking back up.

Closer and closer the birds came. There looked to be something on the lead’s back. More obvious was the flash of white against the spotted bellies of the birds. Letters.

Gwaine let loose another laugh.

Alive. Merlin was alive. And well enough to magic birds into carrying letters.

Suddenly, Gwaine sobered. He was in no position to receive a message from Merlin. Pushing his mount into a trot, he took the lead. Kay rapidly caught up, the rest falling in line.

Gwaine looked up at the merlins. They were gaining altitude, turning towards Camelot. He was certain there’d be a letter waiting for him when he got back.

* * *

Gaius seriously considered retiring. The past few months had been harder than normal on his body. His joints cracked before he even got out of bed. The coming winter would be awful.

Arthur had noticed Gaius’s new slowness and difficulty with stairs. He had been kind enough to not mention it, simply shown up one morning two weeks ago with a local girl and announced her as a Gaius’s personal page.

[Ganeida ](http://www.internationalmyths.com/ganeida/)was a sweet girl. Quiet, but with a churning mind. Once she relaxed around him, Gaius planned to start teaching her herb craft.

It wouldn’t do to retire and leave Camelot without a proper physician.

There was a knock on the door and Ganeida stuck her head around the door before entering the workroom.

“I’m sorry, Gaius. I couldn’t find any kingsfoil.” She took small steps into the room, setting down the basket on her arm on the table. “Was it important?”

“All herbs are important, Ganeida. But I simply wanted to stock up for winter. Soon, it will be hard to find any herb so it’s best to be prepared.”

“Yes, sir.” She dipped into a shallow curtsey.

“Ganeida, there is no need to call me ‘sir’. Gaius will do.”

“Of course. Gaius.”

She shifted her weight, looking around the room. At the hanging herbs, the tinted glass bottles. Maybe lessons could start now.

“Did you want to learn about herbs?”

“I already know some, my mum was a midwife.”

“Tell me what the herbs you got today do.”

“Well, if you chew the yarrow that can help with a toothache. And the leaves help with fevers.”

He made a noise of agreement as he took the yarrow from the basket. “And this?” Gaius pulled out the next bundle. Pasque flowers, though its distinctive purple petals bloomed and died in May.

Ganeida frowned. “I know what they are, but that’s it.”

“They’re useful in calming droughts. And in strong dosages, for sleeping droughts.” He moved towards the window. There was a bundle of twine on the sill he could use to tie the ends of the bundles and hang them with from the small inner balcony.

“Do you use them in the draught you give the king?”

“Sometimes,” Gaius answered.

He paused. Stared. Frowned. There was a red squirrel on the window sill. His quarters were high up on the castle, not near any trees, and hard for small animals to reach via climbing the outside walls. It was intentional, to protect the herbs and books he had. This window was not easy to get at, nor did he provide an incentive for a curious rodents, so why –

There was a gray string around its middle, keeping in place a tightly rolled letter on its back.

Gaius knew that, whoever had sent him such a letter, had magically compelled the squirrel to visit him. It was the only thing that made sense.

The mystery was who. He received such letters frequently at the beginning of the Purge, but those with great magical talents had all but fled Camelot and in his old age Gaius wasn’t sure how much help he would be.

He peaked over his shoulder at Ganeida. She had separated the bundles of herbs and arranged them neatly on the table.

The squirrel chitted at him and Gaius lifted an eyebrow at it in return. It went quiet. It would do no good for the girl to see the squirrel.

Quickly, Gaius brushed the roll of twine off the sill. It fell behind the barrel of grain.

“I seem to be out of string,” Gaius said as he turned back to Ganeida. She looked up at him, blinking as her mind switched from thinking about the herbs to his words. “The market will be open for an hour or two more, can you go and fetch some? These must be hung tonight so they dry properly.”

“Of course.” Ganeida gave a small curtsey and left the room.

Gaius moved to the door and firmly shut and locked it. Then he made his way to the window sill. The squirrel jumped from the stone to the top of the grain barrel and turned its back to Gaius.

His fingers weren’t as steady as they were in the spring, the loose knot was beyond him. Carefully, he grasped the squirrel in his left hand and slid a dull knife under the string. One yank upwards and it fell off.

When he unrolled the parchment, he recognized the handwriting.

Neat with short tails and no loops, a consequence of a scarce supply of paper, Merlin’s writing had always been tiny but clear.

Gaius’s eyes went straight to the signature.

 _Emyrs_.

Only two people knew that name – Merlin and Gaius. The Druids didn’t count. Educated as they were in magic and herbs, few of them could write and none of them would have a hand as practiced as Merlin.

With a relieved laugh, Gaius sat on one of the table benches. He felt ten years younger. Alive! Alive! His boy was alive!

He forced himself to read the letter before tears obstructed his vision.

_I wanted to let you know I’m alright and that I’m sorry I didn’t do so before. I was injured – I’m fine now, promise. Galahad brought me to the Lake for a healing. Time slowed down for us, Freya said it was some sort of stasis, and when we left the lakeshore it was to find a month and a half gone._

_Since then, we’ve stayed with Iseldir’s camp. I’ve learnt a lot from them. About my talents and Albion. Something happened at the Lake – I feel more powerful. Things are easier. And…well, I can see auras now. Iseldir says it’s a talent of his people. I know it’s just supposed to show me those with talent or who are destiny touched, but sometimes I think I can feel Albion herself. Iseldir said the land is alive, in its own way, and I’m beginning to believe him._

_Winter is coming and I will not be spending it in Camelot. Spending time away makes me nervous about Arthur’s safety. But if he has survived this long, and winters are usually safe, I suppose it is okay. He has you after all, and the rest of the knights._

_Please look after him for me._

_I don’t know where Galahad and I will stay till spring. But I’ll visit home for a bit first. I should be there next week, if you can manage to get away._

_Miss you._

_Emrys_

It took a bit of thinking, but Gaius realized “Galahad” was Lancelot. It was a rare show of foresight on Merlin’s behalf, using codenames and code words, and it made Gaius smile.

Parts of the letter made him nervous – hints at how serious Merlin had been injured (though it was a relief to know he was okay), Merlin’s magic developing further (it was a good thing Morgana and Morgause couldn’t read auras), and Merlin sensing Albion. Not the land, like all sorcerers could feel and draw on to some extent. But Albion.

It was a puzzle. Land was land. Camelot felt no different from Essetir. Albion should be the same.

Merlin’s new senses were something Gaius would love to question, his talents were unique and often Gaius found himself enjoying the younger man’s descriptions of how he sensed the world. He had a small journal, coded of course, of notes about how Merlin interacted with the world.

It was the physician in him that strove Gaius to write down his observations with the idea it would help others in the future.  It helped them in the past, found links and patterns to Merlin’s magic that provided guidance to Merlin learning new spells. Gaius had also recorded Merln’s adventures and achievements in the small book. One day, people would know everything his boy did. One day, Merlin would be acknowledged even if it was far off in the future.

That wasn’t today though.

Today, Gaius reveled in the fact that Merlin was alive and not alone and lamented that it wasn’t safe to see him in Ealdor. Today, Gaius tossed Merlin’s letter into the fire.

Merlin being alive was one secret Gaius was happy to keep.

* * *

“Sir Leon!”

Leon turned at the sound of his name. Sir Kay hurried up the stairs to catch up to him.

“Yes?” Leon asked.

“Months ago, you said to watch Sirs Gwaine and Percival for anything odd.”

He nodded, urging Kay to continue. Leon had put out the command to knights he trusted, knights that had a grudge against magic and indifference towards Merlin. He had hoped to catch sign of Merlin and Lancelot’s return, but with the former dead Leon had forgot about such orders.

Well, not forgotten. They just hadn’t mattered anymore.

Merlin was gone.

Which made Leon all the more interested in what Kay could report.

The younger knight gave a quick glance around the area, waiting for a maid to finish going down the stairs before continuing.

“There were birds on today’s patrol. Two birds of prey, flying in formation. They circled us before turning towards Camelot. It’s odd behavior for birds. Sir Gwaine looked at them and smiled. They meant something to him.”

“Odd behavior?”

“Very odd. It wasn’t natural, how they acted.”

Not trusting Gaius, Leon had gone to Geoffrey and asked for tales of Camelot before the Purge. If Merlin, inconsequential, unimportant, simple _Merlin_ could keep magic hidden for so long, there was every reason to believe he wasn’t the only sorcerer hiding in Camelot. Leon had gathered as much information as Geoffrey could give him about identifying sorcerers and how Uther had dealt with them.

Birds had been a common identifier, especially ravens. Smart birds, they had required little coaxing and aid to send messages between people. It was possible, no, highly likely, that any odd acting bird was a messenger

“You said the birds headed towards Camelot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where’s Sir Gwaine now?”

“I told him to take care of my horse and his. He’ll grumble, and pass off both tasks to a groom, but I figured-“

Leon didn’t hear him. He walked fast towards Gwaine’s chambers. He was closer to the knight’s wing than the stables where, but Leon didn’t know how long Kay had been searching for him.

Gwaine, no doubt, had a magically delivered letter waiting for him.

Who would send such a letter? Gwaine had travelled around a bit before settling in Camelot. So had Lancelot and Percival. So had Kay. Had Gwaine meet other sorcerers? Had Arthur’s reaction to Merlin, whom Gwaine was fiercely loyal to, prompted Gwaine to plot against the new king?

That thought made him wish Sir Kay had followed. If he needed to restrain Gwaine, Leon knew he was no match in a one on one fight. He flagged down a pair of household guards and instructed them to follow.

Gwaine could be reading that letter _right now._

Leon didn’t bother knocking. He burst into Gwaine’s room.

There was no Gwaine reading a letter.

There was, however, an ajar window and a bird perched on the single chair in the room.

Leon stared at the bird. The bird stared back. There was a very obvious scroll on its left leg.

Until that moment, Leon hadn’t realized that while planning for the worst he had desperately hoped to burst into an empty room. Arthur had said the fight against magic _wasn’t_ a priority. That figuring out what his uncle was up to was more important. Leon had stayed true to that heading, but this was something that couldn’t be ignored.

It made his heart sink.

Arthur had gone through so much this past season – must he suffer Gwaine’s betrayal too?

For being magically compelled, the bird put up less of a resistance than Leon had expected. Between the guards and Leon, it took only minutes to grasp it and pull off the parchment tied to its leg.

“What’s going on here?!”

Leon looked up to see Gwaine standing in the doorway. Leon let the bird go. Gwaine eyes flicked to it, recognizing it, and then snapped to the rolled bit of parchment in Leon’s fist.

Gwaine knew the bird was coming. He expected the letter. A letter from a sorcerer.

“Guards, escort Sir Gwaine to the dungeon for consorting with sorcerers.”

“What? Leon, you can’t be serious. You know that –“

“I know you are harboring secrets and that’s the opposite of what Arthur needs right now. Guards!”

The two men moved and each latched onto one of Gwaine’s arms. The knight struggled, but not hard enough to break free though Leon know Gwaine could.

“Leon. Leon, think about this.”

“Magic is wrong, Gwaine. You know this.”

Gwaine bared his teeth, ready to snarl an answer, but the public audience of the guards and now interested servants in the hall made him hold his tongue. Leon watched the guards pull Gwaine down the hallway, the knight struggling more for show than anything else.

Once Gwaine and the guards were out of sight, Leon looked down at the letter in his hand. He was tempted to read it, but he would leave it for Arthur.

Leon winced, regretting the fact he had let the bird go. Arthur wasn’t going to like this, and Leon knew his evidence was weak at best.

He looked at the letter again. Maybe he should look for more solid proof?

But no, it was sealed. Arthur would know if it was opened. Leon would just tell Arthur as soon as possible, to minimize Gwaine’s time in the dungeon. It wouldn’t help the tension at court if it got out Leon sent Gwaine to a cell and left him there overnight.

Arthur was right – they had other things to worry about. This should be addressed as soon as possible.

* * *

Camelot was…strange. Percival was used to small towns and farming villages. He and Lancelot had never visited anything else. Camelot, with its bustling lower town and sturdy walls of the citadel was new and exciting.

Or rather, it had been. Now the city, the court, was tense. Gwen was sequestered in her house, Gaius was getting slower and slower, himself and Gwaine had dropped in the knights’ pecking order, Leon was paranoid and trying to hide it, Arthur was eyeing his uncle from the corner of his eye and…and Lancelot was still gone.

Percival was a grown man. He’d only traveled with Lance for a few months, but they had depended on each other for everything in that time. To suddenly be without Lance left Percival feeling cold and empty, made him question just what had him staying in Camelot.

Made him look back and wonder why he had even pledged his sword to Arthur in that ruined keep nine months ago.

Lance had done it for several reasons. One being Gwen’s pretty eyes, but the other two had been his belief in Arthur’s ability to lead and his belief in Merlin’s imagined future. Which just happened to be centered around Arthur, funny enough.

Percival spent months following Lancelot. It only made sense he’d do the same then, too.

Being a knight brought him a finical stability he hadn’t expected. He had a sturdy roof over his head, respect, easy access to food, and a new circle of friends. Camelot had just started to become home when – well, when a sorceress spelled Merlin’s secret out of him and Lance took off with Merlin.

There wasn’t much for Percival in Camelot now. Gwaine was the only one he had an unstrained relationship with and Gwaine too was frustrated with the city. With Arthur. But, well, Arthur was a friend too now and Percival wasn’t going to leave him alone to face the storm on the horizon.

Even if he wanted to sail out and find Lance.

That was another reason he stayed – Lance would be able to find him here.

With a sigh, Percival leaned forward on the crenellation.

Gwaine called him steady and calm, but the truth was he was itchy in his own skin. He didn’t feel like he belonged in Camelot. But, like Gwaine had said, he wasn’t willing to leave Arthur in this mess.

Percival almost wanted Agravaine to make a move so it could be dealt with.

He whirled around at a sharp cry. There, a few crenellations down the wall from where he was standing, was a bird.

A merlin, if he remembered correctly. He wondered if it had gotten free from the mews, they were just across the green, when he noticed the scroll on its leg.

Falcons weren’t commonly used as messengers in Camelot, though he’d seen them used in other countries. He watched this one, expecting it to catch its breath and take to the air again.

It jumped on a crenellation closer instead.

Percival watched each jump it made until the bird was a foot away from his elbow. It opened its beak to shriek at him. He watched it dumbly as it repeated the sound, leaning forward and shifting its right leg up.

Not wanting a third loud scream in his face, Percival reached for the scroll in an attempt to calm it down. It worked, the bird sitting still as Percival untied the paper. No doubt, it was a wrong delivery, but he could look at who it was addressed to and bring the letter to the right person himself.

He was surprised to see the first line was his own name.

_Percy,_

_I’m not sure how much time has passed - something happened I’m still not sure of. But you’ll be interested to know that unicorns do exist. I’ve ridden one. The virgin stories are false._

_Emrys is fine. More than fine and yet not at the same time. It’s hard for me to understand – his powers have grown. We are staying with those who are accustomed to such things and even they are impressed._

_I met some who told me things about Emrys, things I don’t think he knows himself, and they are scary. Arthur is important to Camelot, but Emrys is important to the world. He doesn’t see it and I don’t think he ever will. You’ve met him, and after your last meeting you might have had a shift in perspective. But his clumsy nature, his habit of putting everyone above himself, all of that is real._

_Sometimes he scares me, what he can do. Most times he makes me sad, because he believes he’s worthless. I can’t leave him, Perce. I can’t._

_If Arthur asks what could possibly make me give my loyalty to ~~M~~ Emrys, tell him it’s because he’s a great man who asks for nothing and never complains when he gets the worst. _

_We’ll be spending a few nights in Ealdor next week. It would be nice to see you if you can get away from the city. I don’t know when will be near Camelot again. I don’t think Arthur’s ready to see Emrys._

_Galahad_

Percival stared at the letter, uncomprehending. He read it a second time.

The handwriting was Lancelot’s. But it was signed Galahad. Frowning, he looked at a scratched out letter. _M,_ the _e_ overwritten to be capital.

Suddenly, he remembered what the sorcerers had said that day months ago. He had been so preoccupied with the revelation that Merlin had magic, the rest of the conversation had faded from memory. Now, pieces of it were coming back. A prophesy of a man named Emrys. The woman implying Merlin had enough magic to take over Camelot.

Hadn’t the sorceress ask if Merlin was Emrys? And hadn’t Merlin said yes? If so, 'Galahad' was Lance.

Slowly, Percival sunk down, back against the stone wall. He read the letter a third time, his recalled knowledge in mind.

Merlin was a strong magic user, aweing other sorcerers. And this destiny the secret seller had hinted at, Lancelot now knew it and it was a big deal. Bigger than Camelot. Bigger than the Five Kingdoms.

It wasn’t new. The sorceress had hinted at the same, considered it an affront for ‘Emrys’ to serve a Pendragon. But for this thing Merlin was supposed to do to be so important? Merlin had never seemed special, he was just there, under foot.

Lance had gone on and on about Merlin, but to be wrapped up in a prophecy?

_Merlin?_

It was hard to believe. Impossible, almost. He wanted to see it for his own eyes. Maybe, maybe Arthur would let him leave. Gwaine too.

Percival rubbed a hand over his eyes. Arthur would never let him leave. He didn’t trust Percival to not do exactly this – run off to Lance – and not return. Though he would. Once a knight, always a knight.

He looked up for the bird, wanting to send a return letter letting Lance know all about what had happened in Camelot. To demand answers about this unicorn. To wish him luck.

The merlin was gone.

With a sigh, Percival pushed himself to his feet and tucked the letter into his belt.

Merlin was alive. Impossibly, most likely magically, alive and he should spread that good news. Gwaine was on patrol, but Gaius would be in his chambers. He’d tell the physician and then tell everyone else to meet at Gwen’s that night.

* * *

Arthur looked up from his plate. Someone was knocking on his door, a welcome distraction from lunch with his uncle. Giving Stephen a nod, the manservant went to open the door.

In the hallway stood Leon, a pinched look of worry at the corner of his eyes even as his clenched jaw spoke of anger. His gaze went to Agravaine and then settled on Arthur.

“Sire, I come bringing bad news.” He didn’t continue, eyes flicking again to Agravaine.

Said man turned in his chair to see behind him. “Well, out with it. What’s so awful? Has Morgana been sighted? Morgause?”

“No.”

“Is it pertinent to the safety of Camelot, Sir Leon?” Arthur asked, setting down his napkin.

“I’m not sure. It concerns one of the knights.”

By the way Leon said ‘knights’, Arthur knew he meant Gwaine or Percival.

He had hoped they were over this. They could be angry at Arthur all they wanted, but it had been over a month. Arthur would have thought the sting of Merlin’s subterfuge and death would be behind them.

What would make one of them act out now?

“Uncle, if you would excuse us.”

“Arthur, I must protest.”

“Sir Leon said Camelot is not in danger and thus this isn’t a matter to concern yourself with. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”

“Of course, sire.” Agravaine stood, gave a stiff bow, and walked out of the king’s chambers.

Arthur watched him leave before turning to Leon.

“What is it? What did they do now?”

“Arthur, I know you said that fighting magic isn’t a priority.”

Arthur waved his hand in a continue gesture.

“But Gwaine received a letter from a sorcerer.”

Arthur paused his pacing before he could start.

“How in the world did that happen? And from who? Are you certain it was from a sorcerer?”

“I’ve never seen hunting birds naturally fly into a knight’s room and wait for him on the dining table.”

“What did the letter say?”

“I haven’t opened it – I left that for you.” Leon extended a hand. Clutched in his fist was a crumbled roll of paper.

“I know it’s a shock, Gwaine associating with sorcerers-“

“Leon, I don’t actually care.”

Leon snapped up straight, staring at Arthur with shock. Arthur supposed he could explain himself – how he came to the opinion that sorcerers as a breed weren’t evil. A man is defined by his actions, hadn’t Gwaine said something like that? Nobility should be more than birth. Magic had to be the same.

He refused to think of it any other way.

He refused to think that Merlin had been in anyway evil.

Arthur paused, staring at the letter. Was it right to read it before Gwaine did?

No. But he wanted to read it anyway.

He opened it.

_Gwaine,_

_I figure it’s a toss up as to who is more pissed at me – you or Arthur. For secrecy and safety, use my Druid name – Emrys. When people hear that name, they don’t think of me, and that’s saved me a few times._

_I wanted to apologize for not telling you about my magic sooner. Galahad (code names Gwaine, figure it out) found out years ago in the most direct way possible - seeing me cast to take down a griffin. I’ve been told to hide my power before I could understand speech. Telling people isn’t easy. Especially not in Camelot. And the things I’ve heard Arthur say about magic_

_I know you would stand by me (Galahad said you did at the castle) but I hate thinking that you’re at odds with Arthur because of it. I hate seeing anyone in any kind of pain._

_It’s a long shot, I know Arthur, but any chance he’s willing to talk? I figure he has questions. I figure you all have questions. I’ll be in Ealdor next week. Just a quick visit because we don’t think Camelot is safe for us. Unless it is?_

_Again, sorry. For not telling you and not writing sooner._

_~Emrys_

Arthur collapsed onto his bed.

“Sire?”

Arthur wanted to cry, but he wasn’t going to do that in front of Leon.

“Arthur? What does it say?”

He hesitated before answering. Arthur had noticed Leon’s newly raised hackles in regards to magic. His strongly worded opinions. His talks with Agravaine about the tomes in the library detailing the Purge. Granted, Leon had cut ties with Agravaine once Arthur told them his uncle had tried to banish Gwen.

It didn’t change the fact that Leon had been vocal in his support of Uther’s anti-magic laws. He’d shot down Arthur’s idea of allowing sorcerers marked graves. He sought out signs of magic, like a bird delivering a letter to Gwaine.

“Where’s Gwaine?”

“I had the guards take him to the dungeon.”

“Under what charges?”

“Consorting with a sorcerer, of course.”

Arthur groaned.

“Arthur, what’s in the letter?”

Part of Arthur didn’t want to say, not to Leon. Another part of him said he already had too few trustworthy people around him. He couldn’t afford to put distance between himself and his oldest friend.

Arthur handed the letter over and watched Leon read it.

“Emrys. Didn’t you say that’s what the sorceress called Merlin?”

“Yes.”

“So this means he’s working with Agravaine.”

Arthur felt the sentence like an unexpected mace blow. He had expected Leon to be just as thrilled as Arthur was about Merlin being alive. “What?”

“Before your coronation, he brought up Emrys over lunch one day. He’s searching for Emrys. They’re probably in league.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Leon slammed the letter down on the table. “Arthur, look, I know we haven’t talked about that conversation, but I remember it pretty clearly. Emrys is powerful, scarily powerful. I’m sure Agravaine would love to use him in his schemes against you.”

“I don’t believe-“

“Think about it Arthur. He hid from us, from you, for years. Why would he do that unless he was planning something?”

“Did you not read that letter? It’s because-“

The reason why Merlin had hid his magic, despite their friendship, had troubled Arthur for days. He kept coming up with new reasons. He was scared. He was waiting for the right moment. He believed Arthur would hurt him. The letter added a new thought – maybe he didn’t know how to. Being told to hide, to keep something secret from such a young age? It couldn’t have been easy to overcome that conditioning.

Just like it had been hard for Arthur to overcome his. Like Leon was struggling to break through, too.

“It’s because he’s a traitor just like them all, Arthur!” Leon marched up to Arthur, arms wide. “They’re all like that. He had years, years, to get close to you and we all fell for his act. The clumsiness, the eye rolls, the arguments you had. He never obeyed you, and well now we know why. He’s this Emrys character and he’s going to _bring magic back_ and _what would your father think?!”_

“My father is dead, Leon.”

“And it’s a good thing too, because he’d run you through if he knew you were siding with a sorcerer!”

“I’m not siding with a sorcerer, I’m siding with –“

A crash sounded through the room.

Arthur looked over Leon’s shoulder and saw a small slip of a girl. Maybe fourteen, with her shoulders bowed and hair hiding her face. She was gathering the lunch dishes, the crash had been her accidently knocking over a goblet as she reached across the table.

When did she come in? Arthur hadn’t noticed.

Leon turned to look at her too and Arthur realized something else. She had walked around the table to gather the dishes, instead of doing it from the side near the door. Near her elbow laid Merlin letter.

She had been reading it.

In a flash, she darted out of the room. The door was open a crack, no doubt with this quick escape in mind.

Arthur had a moment of panic. How much had the maid heard? The idea that he had painted a target on Merlin’s back made it hard to breathe for half a second.

Leon took off to chase the girl. Arthur swept the letter off of the table into his pocket before following. It wouldn’t do to leave it in the open.

One hallway, a corner, another hallway, and then they ran smack into Elyan. All three of them crashed to the floor.

Arthur rubbed his shoulder. Elyan was dressed in chainmail and it was never pleasant running into that. Ignoring the bruise that was sure to develop in the next few hours, Arthur pushed himself to his feet.

“We’re following a maid. Young. Long, loose brown hair. Yellow dress.” Arthur didn’t see her in the hallway. He jogged down it until he came to a T intersection. Left, right, there was no sign of her.

Elyan and Leon jangled to a stop behind him.

“I saw her pass me,” Elyan said. “If I had known-“

“You and Leon go left. I’ll go right. Find her.”

Arthur took off, not waiting for their confirmation.

He didn’t find her.

Arthur’s heart, soaring from the news Merlin was alive, plummeted as he realized his carelessness had just put his friend in danger.

People were looking for Emrys. And that maid knew exactly where he would soon be.

At least it wasn’t common knowledge that it was a name Merlin used. He prayed the maid hadn’t heard that part of the conversation.

* * *

Percival walked in on Gaius. The old physician sat at the single table, back to the door and elbows on the wood. At the sound of a visitor, Gaius started and turned. Percival could see the wetness in his eyes, while a few wrinkles had disappeared from his face.

“You got a letter too?” the knight asked.

“Ah yes.” Gaius beamed, looking ten years younger and Percival answered with his own smile.

“I’ll tell the others to head to Gwen’s tonight? Tell her to make something special?”

“I’ll see you at dusk.”

* * *

“Arthur! Thank god. Tell Leon he had no right to throw me in here-“

“He did actually. He’s First Knight.”

Gwaine spluttered.

“Arthur, look, I don’t know what bug bit Leon, but consorting with sorcerers, I haven’t done that. I don’t know what made him think-“

Arthur held up a hand and Gwaine trailed off. Gwaine figured it was a good sign that Arthur came by himself. There was no Leon or palace guards in tow.

“You received a letter, brought to you by a bird. Any idea who sent it?”

“I’m sure Leon does, bet he read it-“

“Gwaine!”

Gwaine looked under his bangs at Arthur. He looked, well, an odd mix of happy and worried. Sorta like when he realized Merlin and Gwaine had followed Arthur into the Perilous Lands.

“Gwaine, do you know who sent that letter or not?”

Arms crossed, Gwaine leaned against wall of the cell. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Arthur he suspected the letter was from Merlin. After all, the Princess had shown no remorse at Merlin’s death. No sign of accepting magic. If he knew Merlin was alive, Gwaine suspected he’d go find him and drag him back to face trial.

“No.”

“Then read it.” Arthur stuffed a roll of parchment through the cell bars.

Gwaine stared at it. Looked up at Arthur’s pinched face. Snatched the paper and unrolled the letter.

He was right, it was from Merlin. An apologetic, contrite, fearfully hopeful Merlin.

An alive Merlin. The best kind.

“Oh thank God.”

Gwaine let his back slide down the wall until he hit the floor. He clenched his hands together around the letter as if in prayer and tapped them against his forehead.

Who cared if Arthur was right on the other side of the bars? Gwaine’s best friend was alive.

“Thank God.”

He sat there, trembling in relief, before it hit him.

Ealdor.

Merlin was going there. And Arthur knew.

Gwaine snapped his head up and stared at the king. “Are you going after him?”

“What?”

“Merlin. You know where he’s going to be, are you gonna drag him back her and tie him to a pyre?”

Arthur paled. “No, no I would never do that.”

“You sure? Because a few months ago, you looked ready to do so.”

“That was a few months ago!”

“We all know you’re a stubborn prat-“

“Gwaine, I’m just as pleased as you to know he’s okay. Lancelot too.”

“Yeah?” Gwaine gave him the stink eye, not sure Arthur was telling the truth.

“Yes.”

“You’ll let me go to Ealdor to see him?”

“I’d go with you too, but we have something a bit more pressing.”

“What’s more important than a friend back from the dead?”

“That Agravaine might know too.”

“What?” Gwaine quickly stood, gripping the bars.

Arthur grinded his teeth. “First off, I know we haven’t properly talked. I’m really upset you didn’t tell me you held a service.”

Gwaine winced. At the time, he’d been one of the more vocal supporters of not telling Arthur they were burning a funeral pyre for Merlin. He’d been angry, more than that, furious, and the only one who had really fought against him had been Gwen. Weeks later though, he had felt bad. He felt even worse now.

“Well, doesn’t really matter now, yeah? He’s not dead.”

Arthur crossed his arms.

“Right, we’ll just drop that for now.” Gwaine gave the king a cheeky grin that lasted only a second. Dang, Merlin was going to be really upset when they discovered they burned his dad’s carving.

“Right.” Arthur nodded. “That means I never told you all-“ Meaning Gwaine, Percival, Gaius, and most likely Elyan and Gwen too, the knight suspected. “That Agravaine asked me some questions shortly after we returned about Emrys and the Once and Future King.”

“Emrys?” Gwaine looked down at the note in his hand.

What had Merlin written? He pulled open the paper to check.

_…use my Druid name – Emrys. When people hear that name, they don’t think of me, and that’s saved me a few times._

“Agravaine’s searching for Emrys,” Gwaine guessed.

“It’s worse than that. While Leon and I were … arguing, a maid snuck into my room and read that.” Arthur pointed to the letter. ” Elyan recognized her as working for my uncle. At the very least, he knows where Emrys is going to be as of next week.  At worst – “

“At worst, he knows its Merlin.” Gwaine’s heart stopped as he said the words. “Look, whatever your feelings towards Merlin are, you have to warn him.”

“I plan to. Except I don’t know where he is _now._ I don’t know how to tell him to not go.”

“That bird didn’t stay?”

Arthur shook his head.

“What time is it?”

“Why does that matter?” Arthur asked.

“Because as much as it pains me, I wouldn’t be the first person Merlin writes to. I bet Gaius got a letter too. And if that’s the case, there’s a meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“Just tell me what time it is, Arthur.” Gwaine rolled his eyes.

“About an hour before sunset.”

“So we’ll be early. That is, assuming I’m not under arrest for consorting with a sorcerer?” He grinned.

Arthur hesitated; for a moment Gwaine thought he’d say Leon’s charges would hold, but then Arthur pulled out a key ring.

“I am still angry at you, Sir Gwaine.”

“I’m still mad at you too, Princess. But Merlin? He’s worth it.” He’d known that since day one and had spent the last month and a half kicking himself for not leaving to follow after his friend.

“Yeah,” Arthur whispered. “Merlin’s worth a lot of things.”

* * *

“Gwaine. And Arthur?”

Gwen stared at Arthur standing behind the knight. Arthur showing up at her house wasn’t strange, but him showing up with Gwaine to their ‘Merlin Support Group’ was.

“I’ll explain later, Gwen. Once everyone’s here. Let us in, yeah?” Gwaine didn’t wait for her to gesture them in, simply pushed the door open further and stepped around her, bee lining for the apples on the table.

Gwen spent another moment wondering about _Arthur_ and _Gwaine_ on her doorstep before hurriedly pulling Arthur inside. “What are you doing here?” she hissed at him. “And in broad daylight too! You said you wanted to make sure Agravaine didn’t know I was here, and here you are, all blonde and wearing red at my door before dark!”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

Gwen huffed at him before looking over her shoulder at Gwaine. “Is this about what Percival stopped by for?”

“Percy?” Gwaine said while polishing an apple on his thigh. “He set this up, not Gaius?”

“Why would –“

Gwaine cut her off with a loud crunch of apple. Gwen stared at him while he chewed and swallowed.

“Well?” she pressed.

Gwaine looked at Arthur over Gwen’s shoulder, then shook his head. “It’s best if we wait till everyone is here, yeah? Explain what’s going on at once.”

Gwen looked between the two men, then hurried over to her small kitchen. “You have me worried,” she admitted as she checked on the baked apples. “Percival said we’re celebrating something, but you two look grim. Which is it?”

“A bit of both,” Arthur admitted.

Gwen _hmmed_ and put the lid back on. She turned around to look at Arthur, then Gwaine, then Arthur again. “Is there a reason _Arthur’s_ here tonight?” she asked the knight while still looking at Arthur.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a bit miffed you guys have been meetings without me. Gwen, I thought you knew how I felt.”

“I knew you missed him. But magic? You never talked about that Arthur. Not everyone was sure you wouldn’t hurt him.”

Arthur looked as if he’d taken a sword to the gut. “I wouldn’t, Gwen, I wouldn’t.”

She walked up to him, placed her ear on his chest. “I know you wouldn’t. But before Elyan told me what happened then, you were so angry … Now I know it was because of Merlin’s magic. No one knew if you would send Merlin to the pyre. Or if not that, there are other forms of punishments.”

Arthur shook his head. “I wouldn’t,” he whispered.

Gwen pursed her lips. She remembered that month, Arthur’s anger, his reluctance to focus on anything other than his duties. Holding onto the anit-magic bolt as a morbid keepsake. An angry Arthur, and now that she knew it, a betrayed Arthur, never acted rationally.

The story of his attack on Uther after visiting Morgause had made the rounds of the castle. It had shifted with the public awareness of her magic, Arthur attached because he had been enchanted, but she remembered hearing the raw truth from Merlin.

_Arthur learned something that goes against all he knows and attacked the cause of it._

A little more than three months ago, Merlin had replaced Uther.

Gwen knew, _knew,_ Arthur would never have executed Merlin. But she knew the knights hadn’t shared her thoughts, knew Leon almost pushed to burn the manservant. And also knew Merlin would be the exception to law, that Arthur still hated magic.

That had been a surprise – hearing Percival and Gwaine defend sorcerers.

She shook her head and stepped into Arthur’s space to kiss his cheek. “I know you’ll never admit it, not out loud, but Merlin was your best friend. I’ll say it again, I know you never would have sent him to die.”

“Thank you,” he whispered into her neck.

A knock sounded on the door. Gwen stepped away from Arthur to answer it.

“Elyan!” She pulled him into a hug. “Come in, come in.”

“What are you making-“ Elyan cut himself off as he noticed Arthur in the kitchen. “Um, Arthur. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I brought him,” Gwaine spoke up from the table.

“ _You_ brought him?” Gaius asked.

Gwen turned to smile at the physician as he walked into her house. “Gaius, you’re looking happy today.”

“I am very happy today, Gwen.” He turned his attention to Gwaine and raised an eyebrow.

Gwaine, to his credit, didn’t squirm under Gaius’s gaze.

“Arthur’s not in my good books,” Gwaine said, “But he’s not on my list of people to avoid either.”

“Thanks, Gwaine,” Arthur deadpanned.

Gwen looked between the two of them. It was not their joking manner of old, but it was Gwaine poking fun at Arthur in a way he hadn’t in months. She smiled. Things would mend between them, eventually

Gaius lowered himself to onto a table bench. Gwen peeked her head out of the door into the street looking for Percival. Whatever news the men had today, it was big. And positive, based on Gaius’s light steps.

She checked on the baked apples on last time before pulling out a pair of chickens from the oven. Elyan let Percival in as she set aside the meat to cool and removed the apples from the heat.

The men settled around the table while Gwen put together dinner plates. She watched them look at each other. Percy looked at Gaius, Gaius looked back. Gwaine looked at Gaius, who didn’t seem to understand what the knight was trying to do. Everyone kept shooting nervous looks at Arthur, who kept his eyes on the table. Elyan looked around at everyone.

Gwen noticed attempts to start, to deliver the news, that stopped as the potential speaker glanced at Arthur.

With a huff, Gwen placed the last plates on the table and sat down between Arthur and her brother.

“Now then, if no one is going to start, Gaius do you mind telling what made you so happy today?”

The physician didn’t hide his once over of Arthur.

“Don’t worry, Gaius.” Gwaine stuffed a bread roll in his mouth. “Afuer alrealy knouws.”

“Knows what?” Gwen asked.

Gwaine swallowed his mouthful. “We got letters today. Merlin’s alive.”

“What?!” Gwen and Elyan shrieked at the same time. Same pitch too, which had them look at each other and snort.  

Gwen couldn’t miss the fact that only she and Elyan were surprised. She turned her attention to Percival.

“Merlin sent you a letter too?” Gwaine asked.

“Not Merlin,” Percival pulled out a scroll from his belt. “Lance.”

Elyan and Gwen both dived for it. Being gracious, her brother let her open it. He read over her shoulder. When Arthur placed a second letter on the table, Gwen snapped that up too to read.

She looked up when finished. Gwaine was making grabby hands for Percival’s letter and Gaius looked interested in Gwaine’s. “Where’s the letter Merlin sent you?” Gwen asked Gaius.

“Letters like these are dangerous. Less dangerous now than they were this morning, but could still bring trouble. I burned it as soon as I could. I imagine mine was very similar to Merlin’s other letter – I’m alive and healed. I’m staying with friends. If you can get the time, come see me.”

“Friends?” Gwaine asked. “He didn’t mention friends.”

“Lance did,” Percival said.

“Right.” Gwen took charge. “Let’s all read the two letters we have, and then while we burn them, Gaius can tell us what Merlin told him.”

“First things first,” Arthur said. “Gaius is right, these should have been burned as soon as possible. I-“ he choked and turned to look at Gaius. “One of Agravaine’s maids read Gwaine’s letter. I don’t know if he knows Emrys is Merlin, but I know he’s been looking for Emrys.”

Gaius went pale. ”I saw Agravaine take off on his horse.”

“Can you get ahold of the people Merlin is staying with?”

“Not directly, but I can send a message letter tonight.”

“Do it,” Arthur commanded.

Gwen nibbled at her lip, watching Gaius and Arthur read letters. Just for something to do, she started eating.

She was happy, gloriously happy, that her friend was still alive. But this new terror for him was stronger.


	7. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Emrys wanting to meet the Once and Future King, Morgause knows they have to act fast to get Morgana on the throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fairly shocked to see this has 250ish subscribers. Hopefully this super long chapter has what you wanted!
> 
> It took awhile to write this - it did not go in a direction I expected - and I played with other stuff in this 'verse (check out the [#veritas channel on my tumblr ](http://uniasus.tumblr.com/search/veritas) for little drabbles and a bit of world history). You'll probably also notice this is now a series, as opposed to one story.

Agravaine arrived at the witchs’ hovel winded, his face red and grinning. Morgana gave her half-sister a look that said she thought the man half mad, looking like that and rushing to them in the dark. He must have left Camelot near dusk.

“Tease him, don’t put on your robe,” Morgause whispered.

With a sigh, Morgana obeyed. Agravaine’s pounding on the door stopped as he watched Morgana slip out of bed through the window. His eyes followed her, making her shiver more than the cool air. 

Hint at possibilities, let the men assume things and convince them ideas are their own. Play to what they want. Morgause was good at it, both Arthur and Cenred had done as she wanted them too, but these games still made Morgana itch. She was all for using words and situations to her advantage, every member of the court learned that early on, but using her form churned her stomach. Ladies were to be saved for their wedding night, and as much as Morgana enjoyed scandalizing the court with low cut dresses, welcoming Agravaine into her home at night while wearing only a shift went beyond that.

Eager to not let her discomfort show, she snapped at him as she opened the door. “Agravaine. Why are you here this time of night?”

Agravaine scanned her body, looked over her shoulder at Morgause, and turned his attention back to Morgana.

“I have news. The best of news.”

“Arthur choked on his dinner?”

“Not that good. May I?” he waved a hand towards the center of the hut.

Morgana stepped back to let him in, happy Agravaine made no move to touch her while he walked past. Shutting the door, she whispered a spell to light the candles around the space. A second one started a small fire in the hearth.

“What’s your news?” Morgause whispered from the bed the sisters shared.

“Arthur has received a letter from Emrys.”

“What? Really?” Morgana rushed to the bed to take her sister’s hand.

For all their talk of prophecies and how to turn it, it remained theory. They had whispers in the wind, no real proof of anything. But here it was. There was no chance of Morgana being the Once and Future Queen, not if there was already a king talking to Emrys. Unless she could take the title from Arthur.

“What did it say? Do you know who sent it?”

“It seems Arthur and Emrys aren’t aquatinted - the letter came to a knight. In it, he wrote that he would like to set up a meeting. Some town over the border, seven days from now.”

Emrys. Morgana wanted to meet him. Learn from him. Convince him that Arthur was the wrong person to label as the Once and Future King, to consider someone more agreeable to magic. Maybe her. A united land of sorcerers and those without. Peace.

It would be hard to achieve. Blood had already been spilled for the dream and still the people of Camelot would not bow to it. They feared magic too deeply to imagine being ruled by it, living with it in the court. They had to be forced to accept the open use of magic.

Morgana would see it done. She’d meet Emrys, try to turn him to her side, and if that failed killed him. And if Emrys was a title, as the Once and Future King was, perhaps she could take it from him.

“We have to attack now,” Morgause’s raspy voice said.

“What?” Morgana turned toward her sister.

“Emrys and Arthur will unite against us. We’re not the heroes of prophecy, Morgana. We’re the ones pitted against them.”

“I don’t believe that! There is no way Arthur will bring magic to Camelot!”

“Emrys reached out!” Morgause began coughing. 

Morgana glared at Agravaine, gestured to the table with its pitcher and mugs, and attempted to sooth her sister. She pulled Morgause onto her lap, turning and propping the blonde woman up to make it easier to breathe. When Agravaine brought over the mug of water, Morgana gave him a truly grateful smile. It was amusing to see his flustered 'you’re welcome', but she pushed it aside.

“Emrys reached out,” Morgause repeated after swallowing a few sips of water. “He’s claimed Arthur as the Once and Future King. There’s no changing that. Prophecies have been overruled, my sister. Not all come to pass. Nor will this one. But we must strike now.”

“But it’s Emrys.”

The Druids, Morgana knew, pinned all their hopes on him. And somehow, in learning about him, Morgana a put a few of her own in Emrys’s care too.

“I know,” Morgause whispered. “But our future doesn’t align with his. If we want to place you on the throne, permanently, Morgana, then we have to strike before they are united. We must strike Camelot before the week is over.”

“That’s preposterous!” Agravaine sputtered. “We’re not ready for an attack on Camelot! I have yet to know where all the nobles stand in terms of magic and Arthur’s rule. My coin can only buy us so many soldiers, and reaching out to those who can help with expenses is still in the beginning stages. We have no army and no plan.”

He turned towards Morgana, arms spread. “Lady Morgana, please. This is folly. I don’t wish for you to rush into this and get hurt. Conquering Camelot - ”

“Oh, we’re not conquering it.” Morgause chuckled. “We tried force, it didn’t work. If my sister is to sit on the throne, we need something different. But it doesn’t have to be now. We’ll follow Uther’s footsteps.”

Morgana frowned. She didn’t like the idea of following Uther in any capacity. Not that she understood what Morgause was hinting at.

“Starting a civil war?” Agravaine asked. “For that, again, we’d need men. Uther won Camelot via the use of dragonlords. Those are gone, and Arthur’s knights are, while upset at him, still loyal. Despite Merlin’s death, and that serving girl’s banishment, he’s remarkably stable. We will never win a fight, not with what we have right now. Attacking Camelot within the week is a terrible idea.”

“We’ll not start a civil war, simply finish one,” Morgause said. 

Morgana’s eyes lit up. “All we need to do is kill Arthur. He’s not married, he has no bastards that I’m aware of. There’s no one of the Pendragon line to take over.”

Agravaine picked up the thread. “Then you can come in Morgana-“

“No.” Morgause cut them both off, then coughed harshly. Morgana helped her take another sip of water.

“Morgana will be the magical savior. Camelot will rip itself to shreds, and with magic she will heal the castle and improve the lives of the pheasants. They’ll beg for a magical queen after seeing the damage those without it can do.”

It’s not the way Morgana wanted to take Camelot. After what that city has done to her, after the fear she had felt in its walls, she wanted the court to feel the same. But her sister was smart, it was because of her they’ve gotten so far already. And while Morgana wished to feel the crown on her head, to be bowed to, and watch magic freely used, it did her no good to rule a city with ruined walls.

“The war won’t last long, will it? We’ve hammered the defenses a lot. For all of Arthur’s posturing, Camelot is not as strong as it was when I was but a lady of the court. Armies and battles have reduced the knights, resulted in smaller harvests. I don’t want to rule a weak kingdom.”

“Of course not,” Morgause sagged her weight onto Morgana. “This will be a quiet civil war, quick and kept to the citadel. Maybe stretch to the city. There will be no distant relative with a claim to the throne marching on Camelot’s gates. Uther killed most of them when he took the sovereignty, and the few left,” Morgause looked at Agravaine, “side with us.”

Morgana liked the idea very much. “How will we do it? We have so little time.”

“We’ll use the mandrake root. Not what we did to Uther, too extreme and focused. But sliced and crushed into a powder and widely distributed, say in the water or in a cask Arthur opens to drink with his knights. It will cause paranoia. Distrust. They’ll fight amongst themselves. We already know there is something dividing them. And then Agravaine can slip a knife into his nephew’s chest.”

“No.” Morgana’s was fully of queenly authority. “I want to kill Arthur myself.”

Morgause frowned at her. “It won’t be easy for us to get into the city.”

“You managed.”

“Back when I had use of my body and could walk. Would you go yourself and leave me here by myself, sister?”

“No, I’d have you come with me. I can rig a cart, you can lay among the crates.”

“Crates of what?” Morgause snapped. “There is nothing in this place worth bringing to Camelot.”

Agravaine coughed into his hand. “If I may suggest, I can bring Morgana in as a seamstress. Say she is from Okney, who has always provided me with exceptional new clothing, and she is here to prepare a winter wardrobe. Give me a day, two at most, and I’ll send a driver with a full cart to pick you up from wherever you wish.”

Morgana looked down at Morgause. Her sister was frowning, but Morgana didn’t care. It would work. It would get them into the city to poison the minds in the citadel and allow her to take care of her brother.

“It will work, sister,” Morgana insisted.

Morgause sighed. “Very well. Have your driver meet us at the bend in the river closest to here at noon the day after tomorrow. No point leading them here.”

* * *

“Sire? Sire? Arthur?”

Arthur jerked at the sound of his name, turning to see Leon. The knight stood proudly just inside the door, chainmail flashing in the morning light.

“Is everything okay? Should I return with my report later? You look like you haven’t slept.”

“If I had, it doesn’t feel like it.” Arthur ran his hand down his face, turning it to brush along his jaw before rubbing the back of his neck.

Last night had been, illuminating and overwhelming, he supposed. Topped with Merlin’s letters, Arthur had returned from Guinevere’s with his head spinning. Not only was Merlin alive, but he was a prophesied savior of magic. And was supposed to help build Albion with Arthur. 

It was too fantastical, too hard to believe. So Arthur turned his attention to the stories Gaius told. Things Merlin had done or experienced. Arthur asked for Gaius’s record book. Reluctantly, the physician had allowed Arthur to take it to read. He hadn’t finished it yet, but even just the first three reports had made the king stop and breathe while he clenched his eyes.

“Nightmares?” Leon asked.

“No. I was thinking about –“ last night. Except, Leon hadn’t been there last night. He’d been the only one not there. Considering his reaction to Merlin’s letter, Arthur felt sure it was for the best. But he hated to think of what Leon would do if he found out Arthur had attended a meeting where magic and Merlin were the primary subjects. 

The king knew Leon was doing his best to protect Arthur, that the knight feared magic and all it could do. Many in the kingdom shared that opinion. 

Arthur couldn’t tell his friend what had captured his thoughts throughout the night. A stab of guilt hit his chest, he hated lying to Leon. Arthur wondered if this was how Merlin felt for years.

Instead of thinking of a lie, Arthur let the unfinished sentence hang.

Leon shifted from foot to foot. “Sire, if this is about our argument yesterday, I apologize for stepping over the line and punishing a knight without your permission.”

Arthur grabbed the rope. “I know you were just doing what you thought best. But I’ve told you before, Sir Leon, I’m not pursuing those who practice magic. In fact, I’m considering changing the laws.”

Leon blanched. “Surely, you can’t mean to make magic legal.”

“No, no.” Arthur waved his hand. That was too extreme, though the conversation from last night meant they would disappear one day. “Simply that…that sorcerers be allowed marked graves.”

Leon’s eyes went soft even as he clenched his jaw hard.

“You were thinking about Merlin, again.”

“I did just learn he’s no longer dead. But I was thinking it before, though now it seems mute. Leon, do you know where they buried Merlin’s things?”

“No.”

“Neither do they.” Arthur knew Merlin’s belongings, in lieu of his body, hadn’t been buried. They’d been set aflame and pushed onto a nearby lake. But Leon didn’t need to know that. 

“Despite all that he was – is.” Arthur caught his language. Merlin was alive! Alive! Not dead! “It would have been nice to visit a gravestone. I know Gaius desperately wished for one. The dead do not care if their graves are marked or not, but the ones they leave behind do. It’s wrong to punish them for a sorcerer’s crime.”

“Anyone who-“

“I know my father considered consorting with a sorcerer, even unknowingly, the same as casting spells.” Arthur’s voice was firm and sad. “I know that’s how he found the dregs of the Old Religion hiding in the villages. It’s the reason Guinevere’s father died. And I know, if he had known about Merlin, that you’d be condemned too. All of us would be.”

Leon frowned, but gave a small bow. “If it’s okay sire, I’ll leave you to your thoughts and return in an hour to give my report.”

Arthur waved a hand in dismissal. He wanted to read a few more adventures that Gaius had scribbled down. 

Leon left.

* * *

Gaius sighed as yet another knock sounded. Gwaine and Percival had already invaded his chambers. In any other time, he’d say the next to arrive would be Gwen, but as it was he predicted it would be Elyan behind the door.

Last night only wet their appetite, it seemed. They wanted more stories about Merlin and the magic he had used to save Arthur, the kingdom, or anyone else. 

Gaius told them about Anhora and the unicorn’s curse. It was a benign story – Merlin’s use of magic had been passive and most of Camelot knew the basics if not the details. Gwaine and Percival had only heard the tavern versions, not the longer tale involving the challenges Arthur had been presented with. 

He told it because Ganeida was still helping him brew the hangover cures Gaius assumed would be in high demand on the morrow. There was no magic in the story that could slip from Ganeida’s mouth to the gossipers in the market.

“Hold on,” Gaius said. He shuffled over to the door to let Elyan in, only to find Sir Leon standing on the other side. The physician suddenly remembered that Leon had been missing last night.

“Sir Leon, do come in.”

The room behind him went quiet. Gaius could feel Gwaine and Percival’s heavy eyes, even though Gaius knew they weren’t looking at him.

“No, I simply wished to talk to Gwaine. Gwaine?”

Gaius looked over his shoulder at the younger knight. He was frowning, no doubt remembering his few hours in the dungeon the previous evening. Still, he nodded and stood. “I’ll be right back. I want to know what happened at the maze.”

Gaius stepped out of the way and let Gwaine walk past him. He watched as the two knights walked down the hallway, both men stiff backed with hands on their hilts. Gaius shook his head. Men throwing suspicious glances at each other and hushed conversations about magic. Those he carried for hiding. It was the second wave of the Purge all over again. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts. Arthur had repeatedly tried to reassure them all last night he wasn’t going to persecute magic. Gaius’s confidence in a world safe for magic was lacking. Arthur might not send the knights after Druid camps, but Leon was a prime example of men acting of their own volition. Until the law punished those who attacked magic, those with it would stay hidden.

“Excuse me,” Ganeida spoke up. “Anhora is part of the Old Religion, isn’t he? I thought all traces of it was gone.”

Percival answered first. “No. In other countries, there are still traces. And Camelot has its ruins.”

“But someone as powerful as Anhora is, why is he still here?”

“Anhora is similar to the saints.” Gaius sat back down at the table, “He was a powerful High Priest of the Old Religion, and when he died was immortalized as the Guardian of the Unicorns. Farmers pray to  [ Saint Fiacre ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Fiacre) during planting. Those of the Old Religion pray to Anhora about all things equine. Being of the Old Religion and a powerful warlock, even in death he can appear. With limitations, of course.”

“Like a magical Saint Eligius,” Ganeida nodded.

“Does that bother you?” Gaius asked.

“No.” Ganeida clenched her hands. “I just didn’t think anything was left of the Old Religion. I always wished it was.”

Gaius frowned at her. Few wished the Old Religion intact, or at least still limping along. He’d never seen any indication she might be a sorceress, but then again someone she knew could be.

He didn’t press, but Gaius noticed Percival give Ganeida an interested look. Gaius didn’t blame him. It was rare to find someone Camelot born and breed sympathetic to magic.

The door opened and in walked Gwaine, Elyan behind him. Ganeida hurriedly returned to finely chopping nettles. 

“What did Leon want?” Percival asked as Gwaine resettled himself on the bench. He gave Elyan a nod in greeting.

“To apologize, if you believe it.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. 

“For throwing me in a dungeon.” Gwaine clarified. “Because it meant he acted on his own and against Arthur’s wishes and that’s uncouth of First Knight.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you didn’t accept that gracefully?”

“About as much as a goat trying to curtsey.”

“Gwaine.” Percival rubbed his forehead. 

“He’s a git. Merlin’s been with us through everything and then some, and if Leon thinks he can just dismiss all of that because of Uther’s propaganda-“

Gaius coughed pointedly. “Ganeida, it’s time you ran home, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Gaius,” she answered. The girl began cleaning up the workstation. 

Gaius told a rushed version of the maze and goblet story, finishing his tale quickly to discourage her from listening at the door. He knew the real reason there were three knights around his table – they wanted more information about Merlin. That wasn’t anything a stranger should overhear.

* * *

“Did you do it?” Morgause whispered as Morgana entered the room.

“Yes.” Morgana slipped off her cloak and pulled out the empty vials from her basket. “I dropped the mandrake powder into three different wells and spoke the spell. Hopefully, we’ll see responses by tomorrow morning.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to hurry things along. Do something in the lower town to make the pheasants nervous.”

Morgana smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

* * *

Over breakfast, Elyan told Arthur most of the cells in the dungeons were full. Arthur tried to ignore the sting of Leon not giving the report. 

“Why are they all full?” Arthur asked. 

Elyan shrugged. “The night guards kept hearing shouts for help. A man was convinced another tried to break into his house, the other denied it. Calls of thief in the taverns leading to bar fights. All petty crime, but there was no evidence and people violently defended their position. The guards locked everyone in the cells, hoping it would just blow over.”

“Has it?”

Elyan winced. “A few came to blows during the night. Gaius has two new patients this morning, one of whom might not make it. The beating was severe. Most shook hands and apologized before breakfast.”

“Was there an event last night? Too much ale?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Those who have apologized can be let go with a warning. The rest, I’m going to have to see, aren’t I?”

“You could have someone else do it. Agravaine?”

Arthur frowned. As loath as he was to give his uncle tasks, especially in regards to Camelot’s citizens, there was little harm he could do here. Giving him such a responsibility might also trick Agravaine into thinking Arthur wasn’t on to him.

“Tell my uncle he’s to hold the peasant court today.”

“Of course. One more thing that happened last night.”

“Is it something I’ll have to take care of quickly?”

“Wolves.”

“Wolves?”

Elyan nodded. “Several people last night reported seeing one wander the lower town. Two different ones, if we can believe the witnesses.”

“I didn’t hear howls last night.”

“No one did. But the wolves were seen, and a mutilated body found at dawn.”

“Wolves. In the city walls.”

“It would seem so, sire.”

Arthur frowned. “Silent wolves. Who managed to sneak in and attack humans, not any of the livestock in pens. Does that seem odd to you, Elyan?”

“You think it’s Morgana.”

“Maybe.” Arthur pushed aside his breakfast plate. He’d finished before Elyan walked into his chambers, but now the smell of the extra sausage churned his stomach. “We know Agravaine went to talk to her two nights ago. I’m not surprised she made her move.”

He stood up. His new manservant, Frederick, rushed forward to buckle on Arthur’s sword belt. Arthur brushed him off. “I’m going hunting. The chain mail goes on first.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” Gwaine complained as they walked through the city. Besides him, Percival snorted. 

“No, really. Why are we here, Perce? Why haven’t we left, gone to Ealdor?”

“Besides the fact we’d be there before Lance?”

“Yes.”

“Because if either of them knew we left Arthur in the midst of danger, they’d have our heads.”

Gwaine sighed and looked over at Arthur. The king was down the street, talking to one of the women who’d seen a wolf the previous night. So far, there had been no sign of it. One wolf or two, there should be something. Holes in the walls where it came in from. Tracks. Even the ground near the body had been devoid of prints.

There had to be a wolf, because there was a mangled up body, or there had to be something someone wanted Camelot to think was a wolf.

It stank of magic. And not the good, pleasant, Merlin kind.

“Does it seem too~?” Gwaine wiggled his hand in the air.

“Use your words, Gwaine.”

Gwaine gave Percival a friendly swat. Perce was the less talkative of the two, but he did believe in using the right words. It prevented mix-ups.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said, stopping by a well to draw up the bucket. They’d been searching for hours, and despite the autumn breeze the sun made his armor feel twice as heavy. “He’s done an about face. Hating Merlin one day, not hatting Merlin the next. I don’t trust it.”

Percival snagged the ladle before Gwaine could take a sip. “He never hated Merlin.”

“Just magic.”

“There is a difference, you know.”

“Gaius didn’t make it sound like that’s the case. What he told us all at Gwen’s-“

“You sharing?” 

They both jumped to see Leon a few feet behind them. The senior knight nodded at the water. “Pass the bucket around?”

Gwaine snagged the ladle from Percival, drank a full scoop, and passed it and bucket to Leon. “Go ahead.”

“Water!” Perce called to Arthur and Elyan, who trotted towards them.

Gwaine shifted on his feet. He didn’t know how much of the conversation Leon had heard, not that there was anything incriminating in it. Nothing he hadn’t said before. 

Still, Leon’s presence of was off-putting. Not only did Gwaine not share his opinions, but the rest of the knights were actively keeping Leon in the dark. Not a secret, but not something to share either. Everyone learned a lot that night at Gwen’s. 

And Arthur…

“It must be magic.” Gwaine jerked out of his thoughts, planning to berate Leon for thinking, again, that Merlin had them all spelled. Except the conversation wasn’t about Merlin. 

Leon continued. “This is very similar to the, what was it called, basset, two years ago, Arthur. Victims, but little in terms of terms of evidence of the culprit.”

Arthur flinched at the word basset. The creature, whatever it was, had terrorized Camelot before the Round Table had been established. “I don’t think-“

Leon plowed over Arthur, turning to Elyan. “It was a vicious sorcerer. She’d turned into giant winged cat at night. It took us days to find her. Arthur got a hit in, but we’re not sure she died. Maybe she’s back.”

“No. It’s not her.” Arthur was pale, and while Gwaine doubted the people in town would notice, the knight saw signs of shame. The only thing that made Arthur look that way nowadays was something involving Merlin. No doubt the basset had an entry in Gaius’s Merlin journal. Gwaine wished Arthur would hurry up and finish it so Gwaine could read it.

“It could be, sire.”

“No. It’s not her.” Arthur dropped the ladle into the bucket. 

Leon pressed his lips tight.

It cheered Gwaine up, to see that. For so long it’d been Perce-Gwaine against Arthur-Elyan-Leon. Gwaine liked the way things were shifting. 

“However,” Arthur said, “I do believe magic is involved.”

Leon nodded. “Morgana?”

“After those letters, it was only a matter time. Maybe another basset, maybe something else.”

Great, just great. As eager as Gwaine was to ride off to see Merlin, he knew Arthur wouldn’t leave Camelot in danger. Gwaine wouldn’t either. He hoped they could wrap this up early.

* * *

Later, Percival dragged Gwaine to the Rising Sun. A reversal of their usual roles, yes, but Gwaine had insisted on patrolling the town at night for the wolf. Two hours after dusk, Perce was done. All day he looked, his eyes dry from staying open, and he found himself jumpy at the sight of any dark haired young woman.  
Perce needed a drink, which meant Gwaine really needed one.

“Come on, Gwaine.”

“That could have been a tail, Perce!”

“You’re desperate to have this over with and seeing things. We need a break. I can’t believe you’re saying no to a tavern.”

“Only for Merlin.”

Percival couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“Would you do things for me?”

“Of course.”

“Then join me in the tavern.”

“Fine.” Gwaine stopped dragging his feet and abandoned the imaginary wolf in an alley.

They walked in silence, still keeping a watchful eye out.

“I thought about what you said, earlier,” Percival said. In fact, the thought had consuming at him since their water break, growing and growing until it took up as much of his mind as potential magical wolves in the city.

“I say a lot of stuff, Perce.”

“About Arthur changing his mind so quick.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re right. It’s too quick.”

They slowed, turning to face each other as they stopped.

“Go on,” Gwaine said.

“What if it’s a set up? A trap for Lance and Merlin? Arthur has never been a friend to magic. For one person to change his mind so completely?”

“But it’s Merlin.” Gwaine threw his hands out, pleading, and Percival can understand. Something about Merlin drew you in fast. The smile, his willingness to help everyone, his way of demanding attention on his own grounds. Percival remembered seeing his coltish body and thinking the younger man needed protection or at least better common sense. Everyone, eventually, wanted to take care of Merlin. 

Of course, it turned out Merlin was fully capable of protecting himself and others. In most cases. And in the others? He had Lancelot. And Gwaine.

But Arthur? Even collapsed, bleeding, and maybe dying, Arthur had given no indication that he was alarmed at Merlin’s wound at the castle a little over two months ago. 

Arthur was more upset at the magic than Merlin’s injury. At Lancelot choosing Merlin.

“Merlin’s death changed Arthur’s mind. Not Merlin. If we never met that secret seller, Arthur would still be supportive of anti-magic laws. This isn’t a change of heart, this is regret. This is him trying to get Merlin back, not changing.”

Gwaine frowned, taking in the words. “What are you saying? We’d go to Ealdor, bring Merlin back, and what? Arthur burns him?”

“Nothing so drastic. There’s a big difference in giving sorcerers marked graves – that’s not for them – and giving them freedom.”

“You don’t believe what he said at Gwen’s.”

Percival shook his head. 

“Think Gwaine. What do you think will really happen, if Arthur brings Merlin and Lance back?”

Gwaine frowned at the ground before looking up. “Merlin would still have to hide. We all know, but he can’t be obvious about it. And he wants to be. Should be. People are counting on him to do this grand, big thing, and Arthur knowing should be the first step, but-“

It’s the “but” that trips Percival up too.

Arthur’s disregard for those, other than Merlin, with magic. Uther’s history, Arthur’s upbringing. How his hand never strayed from his sword the whole time they road back to Camelot. 

“We’re fighting,” Gwaine continued, “against Morgana. Arthur’s a warrior, a leader, he seeks for every advantage he can and – and that’s Merlin. He’ll keep Merlin in the shadows, ask him to terrible things, but never change the laws. A secret sorcerer, always hoping and hoping, because he’s Merlin, but he’ll never get what he wants. Not here.”

“Lance was like that, when we first met. He wanted something, to stay here I think,” or maybe Gwen, Perce thinks, “I ran into him drunk in the woods, crying because he found what he wanted and it was unattainable. Merlin has a big heart, he believes in Arthur so much, but if he comes back to Camelot I think eventually he’ll learn the same thing.”

“That magic has no place in Camelot.”

“That magic has no place in Arthur’s Camelot, and there’s no other Camelot he wants.”

Gwaine huffed. “You don’t think going to Ealdor is a good idea. You want them to stay away.”

“I don’t trust Arthur to keep his promises, not in situations regarding magic. But Lance and Merlin will go on believing in them and destroy themselves trying to do the impossible. Some of the stories Gaius told, I never would have guessed. Merlin smiles all the time. But within a week, he poisons a friend for the good of Camelot, frees a dragon who breaks its promise, finds and discovers his father only to watch him die and realize he’s the last of his kind? And the only thing Arthur noticed was Merlin’s tears as he held Balinor’s body?”

Percival spat the words out. He’d seen Arthur around Gwen, emotions were troublesome things. Arthur’s own range was limited, what he saw in others even less. He’d never, never noticed Merlin’s distress despite their history and constant companionship. 

Merlin wasn’t that good of a politician, able to keep a straight face and lie. Gwaine and Lancelot easily knew when something bothered Merlin, Percival had watched them pry smiles out of the manservant on gloomy days. Arthur was just that dense.

He’d destroy Merlin and not even realize. And behind Merlin would fall Lancelot, Gwaine. Percival. 

Gwen would try and fail to support Merlin and Arthur simultaneously, Elyan falling with her.

“I think you’re absolutely right,” Gwaine said. “Arthur’s not gonna hold to anything he said. I don’t trust him. We should –“

A howl split the night. Both knights spun towards the sound.

“Wolf!” Percival said as Gwaine shouted “Morgana!”

They ran toward an alley. A scream ripped through the air.

Gwaine turned the corner first, bumping into a sobbing woman, who herself was supporting an elderly matron. “It leapt on that poor man!” She clung to Gwaine’s cloak, burying her face into the knight’s chest.

Percival dashed around the three of them to catch up to the wolf. There, lying on the ground of the alley’s end was a portly man. His throat had been ripped out, his thighs torn by claws. Blood still poured from the wounds, the wolf gone.

Quickly, he looked over the ground. Not a single print. Still, he jogged to the end of the alley and looked either way for sign of the beast. Nothing. He did notice two guards also answering the howl. Percival waved them down and told them to get something to move the body with. Task done, he returned to Gwaine.

Something had happened. She’d slapped him and Gwaine looked ready to knock her out.

“Don’t take advantage of me!”

“You’re the one who fell into me!” Gwaine shouted back. He raised a fist and Percival pushed it back down.

“Go home,” Percival told the two women. The younger huffed and spun away, half-dragging her charge behind her.

“What was that?” Percival asked Gwaine. “You getting slapped is nothing new, but I’ve never seen you get angry after.”

“I don’t know.” Gwaine lifted a hand to his chest, then ran a hand through his hair. “Suddenly, she was my worst enemy. I wanted to pay for…I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “The wolf?”

“Gone. No trace. But there’s a body.”

Gwaine sighed. “I want to be packing for Ealdor.”

Percival clapped a hand on his back. “Me too.” 

They both wouldn’t, for many reasons.

* * *

“That was foolish,” Morgana hissed as they returned to the chambers Agravaine set them up in. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Morgause’s words were breathy, weak. It made Morgana worried. She couldn’t do this without her sister, and Morgause spent all her mustered strength on something petty.

Gently, Morgana laid her sister on the bed. After casting fire into the hearth, she pulled out herbs for tea and started grinding them. Her potions lessons felt like medical lessons, leaning everything a plant could do. Of course, she learned both the negative and the positive. Tea was often medicinal, add in magic and it could do wonders. 

Morgause still couldn’t walk. Or push herself upright, but she could stay there. The physical harm Gaius inflicted in the great hall proved permanent, but the blockage to her magic was dissipating. Of course Morgause would want to give her power a proper test, not just hover things around the room.

It failed. Instead of killing the man, she’d flung him into a wall. Morgana casted the spell the made it look like a wolf attacked him. Morgana held their glamours. Morgana made sure they got away from Gwaine and returned safely.

As she worked, Morgana spoke. She hated feeling at odds with her sister, and the heavy silence felt like an argument. 

“At least we know the mandrake powder is working.”

Morgause made a noise of agreement. 

“All those fights filling the dungeons this morning was lovely, but to see Gwaine so quickly assume the worse of a middle aged woman…” Morgana sighed in happiness as she added a strength spell to Morgause’s tea. “The knights are affected. It’s only a matter of time before they turn on each other, and in the confusion I can kill Arthur.”

“Yes.” Morgause accepted Morgana’s help in drinking. ”I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be much help when the time comes.”

“Don’t say that,” Morgana brushed her sister’s sweaty locks out of her face. Tonight’s brief excursion exhausted her. “You’ll get your strength back.”

Morgause hummed and fell asleep. Morgana continued stroking her hair. 

Soon, Camelot would fall. Soon, the noble families would tear the citadel apart, the common people would suffer, and Morgana would alleviate that pain. With the bulk of the people seeing how magic can be good for the country, she would sweep in and finally take the crown.

Emrys wouldn’t be a concern if Arthur was dead. With no Once and Future King, who was he? An old man a few years from death. Powerful, but he’d never attack Camelot. Not if it was peaceful with no Arthur to fight for.

Soon, Morgana thought as she curled up next to her sister, soon this land will be ours. The Priestess could return home.

* * *

Leon went to bed upset. Something had happened between Arthur and the rest of the knights a few evenings ago. They had meet, talked about something, and came to a conclusion Leon wasn’t privy too. 

They were conspiring together about something, and Leon had a feeling what. His dreamt of Arthur welcoming Morgana with open arms, forgiving her for past deeds. Morgana walked into Camelot, every building she passed exploding, and Arthur never complained. Merlin stood on the wall, directing Morgana down a path guaranteed to cause the most damage. 

Arthur would lead them to ruin.

Proof meet him in the morning. Again, he woke to the news of a wolf kill. Again, the dungeons had been filled to capacity as petty squabbles turned serious. One of the taverns had a bar fight so huge, it caused damage to it, the stables in the rear, and the bakery next door. Twenty men, and a few women, and spent the night on hay.

This was the result of Arthur’s lax stance. A repeal on magic, Leon was sure that would come eventually, would bring the country to its knees.

Madness, Leon thought as he gazed into the packed cells. Arthur inherited Uther’s bouts of madness and they were showing despite his young age. A cure needed to be found.

But who to approach? Gaius would not see it as such.

Still pondering, Leon failed to notice Sir Kay step up next to him.

“I don’t understand this,” the younger knight said. “We never see disputes like this in the city. And most of these are based on small things, speculations that got out of hand. You think someone made a pass at your wife and throw a punch. The guards break it up, bring both here. The wife said nothing ever happened. It’s like, everyone in the lower town suddenly turned paranoid.”

Leon nodded. “This is very sudden.”

“You’ve asked before, sir, to keep an eye out for magic. Did you expect this? A spell of madness?”

Magic. 

Merlin cast a spell ages ago to inspire loyalty in him. There was no other reason for Lancelot to disobey Arthur and help a sorcerer-servant. It’s why Gaius never said a word to Uther or Arthur, Merlin cast a spell to encourage the physician to protect him. Gwaine, Percival, Gwen. They loved Merlin because the spell forced them too.

Leon knew this months ago. Merlin’s secret agenda to get all those around him to listen to him, to be the neck that turns the crown. With his assumed death, Leon dismissed those concerns. But Merlin wasn’t dead. Never was. The spell remained, and now he stayed close and cast it again and again. It grew in power, wrapping around Arthur and the other knights of the Round Table and led them to this conspiracy developed at Gwen’s. 

Merlin, here in Camelot. Morgana with him, sowing dissent. 

No. Merlin wished to rule in the shadows. Morgana wanted to wear the crown. If they worked together, they would choose one way or the other. Political power or an attack. Why both? It made little sense.

Magic rarely did.

“Yes,” Leon said slowly. “And no. I expected a magical attack, but not one as subtle as this. Most would not know this as magic.” He cast a sideways glance at the knight.

Kay stood up straighter with pride. “You told us what to look for. Sudden changes in demeanor. Things that felt wrong, or looked wrong, or sounded wrong, when observed from a logical standpoint. The birds were like that. It made sense people could be spelled too. I was confused when so many people behaved oddly. I never thought a sorcerer could be so powerful. I thought yesterday was a fluke. But it’s a pattern of strangeness, sir, and usually magic is the cause of such things.”

Leon placed a hand on Sir Kay’s arm. “Follow me.”

He led the knight into a wine cellar. “I’m relieved you feel the same, Sir Kay. But I don’t believe this to be the first spell cast in Camelot this week. Rather, I think it’s the second stage of an attack I do not understand.”

“A magical attack? Should we tell the King?’

“I believe King Arthur is spelled.”

Kay sucked in air. 

“He doesn’t know,” Leon continued. “And what I tell you now is of the most importance. You must tell only those I approve of.”

Kay nodded, leaning in closer.

“Merlin.” Leon paused.

“The king’s old man servant. Who died on that quest,” Kay pressed.

“Yes. Except he didn’t die. They discovered he was a sorcerer. With his secret out, he fled. And Sir Lancelot went with him.”

“Merlin.” Kay didn’t sound convinced. 

“I know it’s hard to believe, but think about it logically. Merlin is clumsy, you’ve seen him drop Arthur’s armor numerous times. You know he’s been on patrols, and survived each attack despite wearing no protection and wielding no weapon.” The little moments crystalized in Leon’s head as he spoke, the lucky breaks they had, all the times the magic being used to attack Camelot crumbled. How Gwen used to be frazzled looking after Morgana, though her work load was significantly less than Merlin’s.

“Merlin has been enchanting Arthur. Arthur couldn’t get rid of him, until his magic was exposed in front of the knights. But this spell on Camelot, I think it’s Merlin.”

Sir Kay nodded. “People are fighting, not trusting of their neighbors. You think he means to turn us against ourselves in the confusion.”

Leon frowned. He didn’t actually think that. Merlin, for all his sins, did have a love for Camelot. Why else was it still standing? He just wanted a different version of Camelot than existed.

His mind caught, split in two as it wanted to dive into Merlin’s machinations even as he started to question them. Merlin’s Camelot was ruled by Arthur, not himself or Morgana. He had not led Camelot to ruin. 

Leon didn’t know Merlin’s plans, not really. Taking action against him without knowing was folly, he was going into battle unprepared. But action must be taken, and Sir Kay’s thoughts were spilling from his lips.

“He means to have the peasants destroy themselves,” Kay mused, “Have Camelot’s workforce injured or in jail. The harvest is just starting, if men and women aren’t in the fields, the crop will rot and we’ll have a lean winter.”

Kay’s idea had merit. And even if that was not Merlin’s plan, the harvest could be in trouble if this continued. 

“What do we need to do?” Kay asked. Leon blanked. All he knew was a threat hid in the city and it needed to be taken care of. 

“We need to break the spell between Arthur and Merlin. Right now, Arthur wouldn’t punish Merlin once we caught him.” Leon looked over Kay’s shoulders at the cells behind him. “We need to separate them. Arthur cannot come to Merlin’s aide.”

Kay nodded. “We can lock the king in his room.”

Leon shook his head. There were ways out of the room besides the doors. Plus, Arthur wasn’t the only one spelled. Everyone would have to be kept away for however long it took to root Merlin out. 

“It’s not just Arthur. Sirs Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan are spelled too, and I highly suspect Gaius is as well. We have to keep all of them away while we find and-“ and what? Burn Merlin? “And set things right.”

“We can’t do this ourselves, just the two of us. We need help.”

Leon hummed, thinking of who he could trust to assist them. A few of the older knights – Kyle and James – and a few of his peer group who had also kept an eye out for magic in the kingdom. Altogether, twelve knights. It should be enough to take down the Round Table Knights. He gave Kay the names.

“Go and tell them,” Leon instructed, “But don’t take action until I tell you to.”

Sir Kay nodded and walked away. Leon watched him go. Something, something wasn’t right here. His thoughts felt scattered, contradictory, and magic was the answer. Morgana or Merlin? It didn’t matter, Leon would make sure they were both taken care of.

* * *

Agravaine passed Sir Kay in the hallway. A few months back, he overheard Sir Leon telling the younger knight to keep an eye out for magic and Agravaine had quietly requested Sir Kay share those reports with him. After telling the First Knight, of course. It was how he had known to send the maid to Arthur’s room to read Emrys’s letter.

Kay had a similar look on his face now.

“Sir Kay?”

The young knight turned and smiled. “Lord Agravaine.”

“You look as if you have something troubling on your mind.”

“I do, but…”

Agravaine’s body went cold. They suspected him of being a traitor and were beginning to take action. “But you’re been told not to tell me about it.”

The knight shifted. “Not so. Just that my troubles are for a small circle of ears. But while you’re not on Sir Leon’s list, I think you should be.”

“Come,” Agravaine led Sir Kay to his chambers. “If you think I should know, tell me. We can talk in my rooms.”

Agravaine knocked on the door before entering. Sir Kay gave him a questioning look. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard I have seamstresses from Okney here to prepare a winter wardrobe. Last time I walked in unannounced, I startled one so bad her tin of pins went flying and I found a few in my bed later that night. It’s not an experience I want to repeat.”

Morgause, Agravaine noticed, wasn’t there. Probably still resting in the servant’s annex. Morgana sat at the dining table, a black shirt in her hands. The two women weren’t actually creating clothes for him, he’d had them bought in secret and taken to his room. But Morgana was actually embroidering them, adding delicate details to the cuffs and collars. 

Agravaine loved the idea of wearing something she customized for him. He believed her receptive to his feelings, but unwilling to act on them until Camelot was hers. That was okay, he would wait for a Queen.

“I’m not sure-“

Agravaine interrupted Sir Kay. “Anything you can say to me, you can say to Lloywn. She has my completely loyalty.”

Kay gave Morgana a once over. Morgana didn’t look up from her needlework. Nodding, the knight began speaking.

“Sir Leon believes the unruliness in the lower town is the result of a spell. And that the same sorcerer who cast it has enchanted King Arthur and his knights. Since you have also spoken out against magic, I felt you should know Sir Leon already has a plan bring the sorcerer to justice.”

“What’s the plan?”

Kay pressed his lips together. “We believe that the King and his knights would stop us, due to the enchantment, so we are planning to round them up at the meeting. We’ll keep them in the cells until the sorcerer is caught and burned.”

“Do you know who this sorcerer is?” Agravaine asked.

“Sir Leon believes it to be Merlin.”

Morgana stiffened.

“Merlin,” Agravaine said.

Kay nodded. “Apparently, he never died, just fled because his status as a sorcerer was exposed.”

“And he’s been spotted in the city? Casting this unruliness spell?”

Hesitantly, Kay nodded.

“Thank you for informing me, Sir Kay.” Agravaine patted the knight on his shoulder. “Now return to the task I pulled you from and keep this secret.”

Kay bowed and left.

“That little worm!” Morgana shrieked as soon as the door closed. “Merlin knew I had magic, knew how to control his, and said nothing! He left me to think I was going mad, that I was alone, when all the time he…And he still poisoned me!”

One of the candles on the bedside table lit, the flame six inches high.

“Careful!” Agravaine hissed, pointing, and Morgana snuffed out the candle. 

He came to sit across the table from her, loosening her fingers on the shirt and linking them with his own. “This is proof your spell is working. The knights are split and will soon act against each other. By the new year, you will wear the crown and then you’ll have the whole strength of Camelot behind you to seek out and destroy that servant.”

Morgana’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Camelot first, people like me need a safe haven. Then I can seek my revenge.”

He wanted to kiss her, this brave woman who survived so much pain and fear and was now on her way to winning everything she deserved. The table was too wide, so instead he squeezed her hands. Morgana smiled at him, then pulled away.

“I should check on my sister.”

“Of course.”

He watched her walk into annex before looking at the embroidery she set aside. In neat stitches around left cuff of his sleeve, the dark red thread barely visible on the black fabric, were miniature versions of Camelot’s crown.

A crown for me and crown for you, it seemed to say. Agravaine smiled.

* * *

“I don’t know if I’m more surprised that Merlin has magic, or if he hid it for so long,” Morgana confessed to Morgause. 

“It explains how he’s been disrupting our plans.”

“Yes,” Morgana seethed. She thought back to the boat funeral pyre she’d found at the Lake. A knight of Camelot had paid his respects – had it been for Merlin? Who else would have gotten a burial on a lake with such a blessing. Camelot had believed Merlin dead, and something had tipped them off he wasn’t.

Or someone. The notes from Emrys, perhaps. Morgana wouldn’t put it past the manservant to try to convince the warlock of Arthur’s goodness. Goodness Merlin didn’t fully trust if he had fled when his magic was discovered. 

She tossed away the thought of them having similar ground to stand on. Even if they did have the same experience of being shunned by Arthur Pendragon, Merlin chose his side long ago. For poisoning her, for getting in her way, for rescinding the small bit of help he gave in the form of the Druids and then leaving her alone, Merlin would pay.

“Your spell is working,” Morgause sighed. “The knights no longer trust each other.”

“Yes. And Merlin’s presence in the city helps with that.”

“If he is here.”

“You don’t think so?”

Morgause attempted a shrug. “The spell makes people who drink the water hallucinate. And our fake howls convince them they see a wolf when there is none to be seen, because what else can damage bodies so? Knights suspicious of magic will see it.”

“Leon was knighted during the Purge. He has never been fond of magic, even as he took the laws to heart.” Morgana smoothed the bedsheets next to Morgause. “The worst threat he can think of would be a sorcerer Arthur would allow to get close. Me, Arthur knows is a danger. Merlin…I don’t know Arthur’s feelings towards that bastard.”

It stung, the knowledge people at court had supported Merlin despite his magic. Someone must have, if that boat really was Merlin’s. The possibility that Arthur would accept a servant before he accepted his sister, as Leon hinted…

Morgana clenched her fists. 

“How do we use this?” she asked her sister. “How do we drive the wedge between Arthur and his knights deeper?”

“I don’t know if Merlin is here. I cannot see magic, nor can you. But whether that is true or not, if he is publicly seen - “ Morgause broke into a coughing fit.

Morgana hurried to pour her watered wine. Gently, she helped Morgause sit up and sip from the goblet.

“Give Sir Leon his fear,” Morgause continued once she was able. “And he will act on it.”

* * *

Gwaine didn’t know what drew his attention to the slumped figure on horseback entering through the west gate. The horse was dirty, the rider too. Maybe it was the skin canister hanging from the rider’s shoulder, which looked very much like Merlin’s healer’s kit. Maybe it was the cloak the rider wore, familiar as if he’d seen it hung many times from a peg. Maybe the rider’s white knuckles, bony fingers, furtive glances that gave a glimpse black hair and blue eyes, and a flash of red at his throat, or way he seemed to know the city.

Whatever it was, Gwaine saw him and couldn’t stop looking. 

On watch, he couldn’t just leave his post. So he told his partner he had to piss and took off through the crowd to follow the horseman.

Was it Merlin? Gwaine couldn’t be sure, but he wanted to know. And if it was, he planned to send Merlin right back out the gates. He shouldn’t be here in Camelot. Why did Lance let him come?

Gwaine stuck to the shadows as he followed, gathering clues and weighing them. 

Too preoccupied with not being seen, he failed to notice Leon. They collided, armor ringing and drawing the attention of the crowd. 

The rider turned on the horse. Gwaine could see his face perfectly. Wax, wane, sickly, it was still Merlin. 

“Gwaine, I-“ Leon cut off at Gwaine’s gasp. Gwaine tried to school his expression, but it was too late. Leon turned and saw Merlin.

Instantly, Merlin kicked his horse forward.

Gwaine could only imagine what Leon would do with Merlin. He planted his feet, shoved his shoulder in Leon. The older knight tumbled into a veggie stall. 

Ignoring the shouts, Gwaine ran to catch up to Merlin. The closer to the castle Gwaine got the harder it was to follow. Something brushed his mind, a prod, or a prediction, and Gwaine headed towards the small door near the castle kitchens used for deliveries. 

He slowed to a wolf trot as he got closer, hiding as he watched. Merlin reined in his horse. He looked tired, harried, and Gwaine wondered if months later he was still recovering from that anti-magic iron bolt. Lancelot should have taken better care of him!

Gwaine took a step forward but froze as Arthur emerged from the doorway.

“Merlin,” he barked. There was no trace of the relief and grief he displayed at Gwen’s, no happiness at seeing a long lost friend. The king wore the same expression he used to when Merlin was slow in getting meals. “You’re late.”

“Sorry.” Merlin hunched, wove on the saddle. 

Arthur walked over to the horse and helped Merlin dismount. Gwaine didn’t miss the way Merlin flinched and tried to pull away before collapsing into Arthur’s side. He looked too weak to pull away, at the king’s mercy. Gwaine wanted to yank him away to safety. 

“Did you meant it? You’ll lift the ban?” Merlin’s whisper just reached Gwaine’s ear. 

“Eventually,” Arthur said gruffly. He half carried, half dragged Merlin through the door. Gwaine had a feeling they weren’t on their way to Gaius.

He deliberated. Should he go after them now, battle Arthur for Merlin on his own, or go find Percival?

By the time he came up with an answer, Leon caught up to him with backup. After a short, furious fight, Gwaine found himself again thrown into the dungeons at the First Knight’s command. 

“Let me out!” he snarled from behind bars. “Let me go. I’ll take him out of Camelot. You’ll never see us again.”

No need saying who Gwaine would ferret away. Leon knew.

“Magic can be cast from afar. I need to be sure Merlin is properly taken care of.” Leon looked at Gwaine, of all things, with pity. 

“And what do you mean by that?”

Leon didn’t answer, and Gwaine noticed the knights on the other side of the cell hadn’t seemed surprised at Merlin’s name. Leon had told.

Merlin’s secret was out. Any knight or guard would kill him on sight, and no matter how powerful Gaius had said Merlin was, Gwaine didn’t think he could take on all of Camelot’s warriors. 

Leon bent to down to be at level with Gwaine, still on the cell floor from where he landed when tossed in. “You’ve all been bespelled, I said it before. And now he’s gone a step further and bewitched the entire town. You and the others aren’t in your right mind, you won’t do what’s best for Camelot.”

Leon stood. Gwaine watched him with growing trepidation. 

“We’ll make sure the kingdom is put back to rights.”

“And Arthur?”

It wasn’t just Agravaine plotting. It was Leon, too. 

“He’ll understand once the spell wears off.”

Leon spun on his heel and walked away. Leon’s knights, a mix of the young and the old, paused a moment before following. Sir Kay took the time to offer what he most likely thought were words of comfort.

“We’ll kill the sorcerer, give you your mind back. Promise. I’m sorry we didn’t catch the spell earlier and you had to suffer through being friends with him, Sir Gwaine.”

“I’m not enchanted. I like being friends with Merlin.”

“You won’t say that tomorrow morning.”

* * *

Arthur called a small meeting of knights in the council chambers. Sadly, none of them understood punctuality. He huffed, arms crossed as he sat in his chair. Percival and Elyan, kept shooting him glances. 

Percival, for some reason, seemed wary of Arthur. Hyperaware of his every moment. Elyan expressed the same towards the bulky knight. 

It made Arthur nervous. He thought this was behind them, the distrust pushing them apart. But Percival was suspicious of something, and that was making Elyan nervous, and -

Arthur sighed. Where was Gwaine? Or even better, Leon? While Arthur at odds with him, Arthur did trust Leon. It would be nice to have someone in the room who wouldn’t question his motives or worry he’d do something violent. 

Agravaine, the only non-knight invited, shifted in his chair. “Do your knights not understand the importance of stopping these wolves, Arthur?”

“I’m sure they do Uncle, and that they’re on their way.”

Agravaine sniffed. “What servant did you send the message with? Maybe he failed to deliver it.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, but didn’t believe it. He’d told Leon about this meeting personally and knew the knights had spread the message around themselves. Something felt wrong. Arthur shifted in his chair, uneasy.

Arthur caught Elyan’s eye. The knight frowned in Agravaine’s direction. The lord didn’t look pleased with the empty room, but he didn’t look frustrated either. He kept throwing glances at the doors.

As if on cue, they opened and in walked Leon. He stopped at the edge of the table, looking grim. Behind him filled some of the missing knights, a few guards. Twenty men in total.

Arthur’s stomach rolled. He cast a quick glance at Agravaine. Smugness, but no sense of pride or righteousness. Arthur guessed his uncle knew about this, but wasn’t directly involved. 

No, this was all Leon’s doing and that stung worse than Lancelot’s betrayal. 

Slowly, Arthur stood.

Elyan and Percival did too, wary, confused, hands on their pommels. 

“Sir Leon, is there something you wish to say?”

“Yes, sire.” 

So formal. An official coup then. 

“We have reason to believe the wolves and the increase of jailed peasants is the result of a spell. We also believe you to be affected, sire. Maybe not the same spell, but something to prevent you from taking the necessary action.”

“Which is?”

Leon hesitated, and Arthur knew Merlin was at the root of this. At least, Leon’s opinion of Merlin.

“Killing him,” Sir Kay spat out. 

“Kill who?” Agravaine asked. “Merlin?”

Arthur swallowed his horror. When had Agravaine learned about Merlin’s magic? Who told? He looked at Leon.

Leon, who also searched his men’s faces looking for a leak. Sir Kay stood up straighter when Leon met his eyes.

Despite Leon essentially marching into the room and declaring Arthur unfit to rule, the king felt relieved to know Leon hadn’t told Agravaine about Merlin. 

No. Just Kay.

Arthur felt his rage bubble. No matter Leon’s feelings towards Merlin, he shouldn’t have shared knowledge of his power. He had sworn to keep quiet. He’d betrayed Arthur twice in five minutes, but Arthur kept his tongue. He didn’t who knew what and hesitated to give something away he shouldn’t.

“He’s been spotted in the city,” Leon said with a nod to Agravaine. “I wish to see his presence in Camelot removed. Your Majesty, Sirs Percival and Elyan, we believe his spell on you compels you to protect him. For your own safety and for the good of Camelot, we ask you to temporarily submit to our care.”

“Where’s Gwaine?” Percival asked.

“He’s okay,” Leon answered. “Maybe a few busies. We’ll take you to him.”

“How temporary will your care be, Sir Leon?” Arthur enjoyed the look of misery on Leon’s face at his cold tone.

“Until we find Merlin. Be it hours, or days, I cannot say, but it’s our top priority.”

“You honestly believe Merlin to be a bigger threat. Merlin. Compared to Morgana? Or someone else?” Arthur flicked his eyes to Agravaine. 

Leon tightened his hand on his sword. “I believe Merlin to be the immediate threat. All others will be dealt with in time.”

“And if we refuse?” Percival interjected again.

“You’re out numbered.”

Percival flexed his biceps.

“Leon, please.” Elyan pushed away from the table and walked forward a few steps. “Locking us up for a night is silly. Let’s sit down and talk, there’s no need for us to work against one another.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leon snapped and Elyan took a step back. “Ever since,” he cast a furtive glance to the side, “Ever since those letters, the four of you have been conspiring something involving magic. Something happened at Gwen’s-“

“It’s not a conspiracy!” Elyan threw his hands up. “We just didn’t want to listen to you toss out accusations the entire time, like you are now!”

“They’re not accusations! You have been acting strangely all week, Arthur wants to change the law, the people’s behavior is unnatural, and I saw Merlin in the lower town with my own eyes not an hour ago!”

“It’s true, Arthur.” Agravine spoke up. He’d edged around the table, stood on the edge of Leon’s knights. “You’ve been acting not yourself of late. You’ve never been sympathetic to magic, and suddenly to consider repealing the laws?”

Arthur huffed. “There’s a difference between allowing marked graves and-“

“It’s the start of a downward spiral, sire. A test, of Merlin’s power. If he can make you turn over a benign law first, he can work up to those that can destabilize Camelot. Nephew, please, I know it seems harmless, but your mind is not right.”

“I have not been enchanted. Nor have Elyan and Percival!”

“You don’t know that,” his uncle pleaded. “And if you haven’t, what’s the harm in hunting down a sorcerer?”

Everything, Arthur wanted to say, when it’s Merlin. He tightened his grip on his sword, saw Elyan and Percival do the same. A few of Leon’s men drew swords. 

He knew Leon had been distrustful of Merlin, but to go this far? To circumspect Arthur’s authority? When had things gotten so bad?

Arthur drew his own sword, ready to fight for his kingdom, even against his oldest friend. It was Leon who was addled. Leon who was enchanted. She was here, responsible for the wolves. It was her who turned the men against him.

Agravine smiled and Arthur’s stomach shriveled. Whatever this was, it played right into Morgana’s hands. 

He tossed his sword on the round table, followed by his sheath.

“If you’re determined to use force Leon, I’ll come quietly. You’re my friend. I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Slowly, Percival and Elyan did the same.

“Wise, sire.” Agravaine stepped forward. “You can rest assure that I’ll take good care of Camelot while-“

“No.” Arthur commanded.

“No?”

“I will not name you regent, Uncle.” Arthur made sure every man in the room heard him. “If Sir Leon is convinced that I am addled, there is no reason to believe you haven’t been enchanted too. After all, it’s well known how much I trust you.” Arthur had to force the last sentence out. 

Instead, Arthur gestured to Leon. “If my First Knight,” Leon gave a small flinch at Arthur’s tone, “has such support, then he will act as regent until this issue is corrected.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll take care of her well. And Lord Agravaine, if you would accompany King Arthur and Sirs Elyan and Percival? As his majesty said, it’s possible you could be enchanted too.”

“Of, of course.” Slowly, Agravaine unhooked his sheath and placed it on the table. Arthur was pleased to see he did so grudgingly.

At the same time, disappointment swelled in his chest. Leon still held on their suspicions of Agravaine. The possibility of him being enchanted slipped away. Arthur realized yes, Leon hated, or maybe just feared, Merlin that much. Leon’s distrust of magic was strong enough to override his loyalty and support to his king.

It stung. Twice now Arthur had been found wanting by his friends. The Once and Future King, bringer of the Golden Age. Arthur would never deserve such labels. 

He went peacefully as they were lead to the dungeons.

* * *

Morgana did her best to not giggle. Wearing Arthur’s face, even hidden behind a cowl, and expressing such glee would capture attention and the show was done. Gwaine had seen it. Leon too. She figured they had an hour at most before Leon moved against Arthur and she wanted to see it.

“Morgause?” she whispered.

Her sister made a small sound, but no words. Knowing she lacked the reserves for the coming battle, Morgause insisted in casting her own glamour to limit Morgana’s use of power. Her own weakness had added to the image of Merlin being injured and scared to reunite with Arthur. The look on Gwaine’s face had been glorious.

“Morgause. Can you dispel the glamour?”

Another semi-coherent noise. Morgana took it as a no.

Morgana couldn’t dispel Morgause’s glamour herself, but she knew eventually it would disappear. The trouble would be keeping her, as Merlin, out of sight.

It would take Morgana out of her way, eat up time, but for her sister’s safety Morgana could delay things. Casting a spell to dissuade anyone from noticing them, she helped Morgause up flights of stairs to the small room off of Agravaine’s. No one would bother her there, Agravaine’s position in the court ensured that.

Morgana had to fully drag Morgause into the room, she’d fallen asleep in exhaustion. With a huff, she maneuvered her sister into the bed, taking care to tuck the blankets around her and light a candle whose scent eased sleep.

Hopefully, by the time she woke, Morgana would have killed Arthur and started their civil war.

* * *

The pounding on the door had Gaius fumble and drop the pestle. Ganeida stared at the door, just as worried.

“Calm, child. People are often panicked when those they love are ill.” Gaius set things down properly and shuffled to the door.

On the other side was an unfamiliar knight, grim and serious.

“Yes?” 

“I’m to escort you to the council chambers.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Should I bring a tonic?”

“No.”

Gaius turned to look at Ganeida. “Once all of those are ground, finely, put them in the bottles. Label them, neatly, and then you can go.”

“Yes, Gaius.”

Curious, Gaius followed the knight to the council chambers. Something sudden must have come up requiring his counsel. Most likely new information about the wolves in the lower town and the overcrowding in the dungeons.

He’d seen bodies mangled by wolves before and the four he’d seen recently weren’t. Combined with the elevated sense of distrust, something was afoot in Camelot. Morgana, most likely. If Arthur hadn’t summoned him so soon, Gaius would have interrupted his dinner for a private chat. A look at some of the wells revealed mandrake root.

Except, Arthur wasn’t in the council chamber.

Leon stood next to Arthur’s seat, giving instructions. “I want their rooms searched. Every single one of theirs. The knights’, Lord Agravaine’s, even the king’s.”

Several knights nodded and scurried to obey.

Leon looked up and noticed Gaius waiting with his hands clasped in front of him. The knight jerked his head to the side and Gaius walked over to meet in semi-privacy. Gaius started at the sight of Arthur’s sword at Leon’s hip.

“Sir Leon, what seems to be the problem?”

“I want direct answers, Gaius. I don’t care about whatever you concocted at Gwen’s. You were not in your right minds. But I want you to understand what exactly is at stake.”

“Why are you wearing Arthur’s sword?”

“Why is Merlin in Camelot?”

“What?” Gaius jerked upright. “He’s not. He wouldn’t be, he said-“

“Don’t lie to me, Gaius. I saw him ride into the city with my own eyes. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Leon grabbed Gaius’s elbow and pulled him away from the table. 

“I know you think you’re protecting him, but you’re not. I know he’s here and everyone he enchanted is in a cell. Except for you. These knights? They don’t care that Merlin served Arthur faithfully. They will find him and kill on the spot.”

“And you won’t? You’ve made your stance on magic very clear, Sir Leon.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something feels off Gaius, I’ll admit that. But as dangerous as I feel magic is, as conniving it can be, as manipulative, as right as Uther was to ban it, killing sorcerers is not the answer. Merlin…I don’t trust him. I never will, and I certainly don’t trust him in Camelot or near Arthur. He’ll lead us all astray.

“He’s your ward, Gaius, I know you care for him as a son. Tell me where he’s hiding, and I’ll make sure he leaves Camelot alive if he promises not to return.”

Gaius peered into Leon’s eyes. He believed what he said and something in his chest loosened at the thought that if captured, Merlin would still be safe with this man. It didn’t change the fact that Merlin wasn’t here. Or that Leon had tossed Arthur in the dungeon.

“Leon.” Gaius gripped the knight’s forearm. “Listen to me, Merlin is not in Camelot-“

“I saw him -“

“Then you were deceived. Just like someone is deceiving us into believing there are wolves in the lower town. I found mandrake powder in one of the wells-“

“There’s no wolf?”

Gaius shook his head. “No. As I prepared the bodies, my assessment of their wounds changed. Leon, someone in the castle is making us not trust one another. Fight it, Merlin is not here. He told us –“

“Sir Leon!”

The door to the chamber burst open to reveal two knights – Sir Kyle and Sir Mors - men advanced in years and whose suspicions of magic had them refusing medical care more than once. Dragged between them was an unconscious young man, head tipped down so only his black hair was visible.

Gaius’s breath caught in his throat. Don’t be Merlin. 

There was no reason for it to be Merlin. His letters said he’d be in Ealdor, waiting to see if anyone showed up. No one would, the mandrake well seeing to that, and Gaius’s heart clenched in mock pain. Merlin needed to know he still had friends in Camelot. 

He was in Ealdor waiting. Not here in Camelot.

Except, as the man was laid out on the table, Gaius saw it was Merlin. 

He rushed forward, already performing an exam. Breath, shallow but there. Skin, clammy. Face, flushed, maybe with fever. 

A rough hand pushed him away. 

“If we kill him, the king’s mind will be free!”

“No!” Gaius shouted. 

Leon jumped forward.

Sir Kay plunged his sword down, straight into Merlin’s belly, pinning him to the round table.

Gaius, not knowing where his old bones found the strength, shoved Kay aside to cradle Merlin’s face. The pain of the sword had woken him, hands curling around the weapon and bleeding as the blade bit into them. Merlin gargled and gasped. 

“Look at me, look at me,” Gaius pleaded. “You’ll be alright Merlin. You’ll be alright.”

Merlin locked eyes on him, then looked away. He looked around the room, searching for something and not finding it. 

“Sister,” he breathed as he closed his eyes and died.

“No. No!” Gaius sobbed, letting his forehead fall onto Merlin’s shoulder. 

Not again. He’d barely lived through Merlin’s first death. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

A hand on his shoulder tried to pull him back. 

“Gaius.”

Leon. Gaius shrugged the grip off.

“Gaius, it’s not Merlin.”

That got his attention.

Slowly, Gaius pulled away.

The body beneath certainly looked like Merlin, but as Gaius watched he realized it changed. It shrank, the ears didn’t stick out so much. Merlin’s boniness turned into something round, softer, and an ugly scarring rose from the surface of his skin. The hair grew out, turned blonde. 

Everyone gasped as they recognized Morgause.

The rush of relief Gaius felt made his knees weak. Someone nudged him into a chair. Gaius looked up to see Leon frowning at Morgause.

Right. Gaius had to make sure the rest of the knights in the room didn’t believe Merlin and Morgause were working together. Or, worse, they had always been the same person. Mandrake root produced illogical thinking.

He clasped his hands together to hide the relieved trembles. “Sir Knights, I’ll remind you Merlin died at the end of Spring at the hands of a sorceress. If anyone has seen him around Camelot, casting spells and influencing the king, surely it was Morgause in disguise playing on His Majesty’s grief.”

Gaius watched Leon ground his teeth. Gaius wasn’t sure where the younger man’s head was, but at this point it would be Gaius’s word against Leon’s. And Gaius’s theory was less crazy, considering Morgause’s blood seeped into the wood.

“The king’s mind is safe,” Gaius continued. “Someone should release him from the cells.”

“Wait,” Leon commanded. “Morgause and Morgana are in league. It is possible King Arthur is still under her spell. If Morgause was in the citadel, Morgana must be too.” He turned to the pair of knights who brought her in. “Where did you find her?”

“Lord Agravaine’s chambers-“

“Conspiracy with a sorcerer is treason. He’ll burn at dawn.”

Several knights sputtered. 

Sir Kay stepped forward. “Surely, he’s been just as enchanted as the king. Fell for the disguise-“

Leon shook his head. “I doubt Lord Agravaine would be inclined to help Merlin. He must have known it was really Morgause. Besides, we’ve suspected Agravaine of treason since the coronation. Morgause serves as proof.”

He walked over to the table and yanked Sir Kay’s sword from the wood. Morgause’s body twitched. 

Gaius felt the charge in the air too late to sound a warning. In a whirlwind of black tresses and silk, Morgana stood among the knights.

“Who murdered my sister?” she hissed. 

Gaius did his best not to glance at Sir Kay.

Morgana, however, eyed an entirely different scene. Sir Leon, standing next to Morgause’s body on the table, with a bloody sword in his hand.

With a shriek, Morgana flicked her hand in the air and Leon went flying. 

The knights drew their swords. Morgana gave them barely a glance as she marched towards an unmoving Leon. 

“Eye for an eye, life for a life,” she said, building a fireball in her hand. “Camelot has now stolen everything good I ever had. I’ll kill Arthur after I kill you, Leon,” Morgana announced.

* * *

“Gwaine, I should have known you’d be here.” Percival smiled as he, Arthur, Elyan, and Agravaine walked down the stone steps into the dungeon.

Gwaine didn’t smile back. Percival’s face dropped. 

Most of the cells had been emptied from the large round up during the night, but Percival and Elyan joined Gwaine in his while Arthur and Agravaine got their own.

“Leon put you here too?” Elyan asked Gwaine.

Gwaine nodded grimly, glaring at Arthur.

Percival waited for the question. Why had Leon put the rest of them down here? But Gwaine never asked. Instead he gave a brief look at Agravaine and then jabbed his fingers through the bars at Arthur.

“What are you doing with him?”

“With who?” Arthur asked,

“With _him_.” Gwaine countered. “I saw you both earlier and he flinched, fucking flinched Arthur. It’s his goddam collection of virtues that brought him back and I won’t see you taking advantage of him. Again!”

“Gwaine, calm down.”

“I will not, you bastard! You-“

Percival yanked Gwaine’s shoulder back, pulling him to the back of the cell. “What are you talking about, Gwaine? What did you see?”

Elyan pressed close, just as curious.

“M-Emrys,” Gwaine whispered, keeping to code names even though no one outside the cell could hear them. “He rode in. I followed him, and he met up with Princess Prat who pulled him inside. Perce, he looked terrible. He has lots of healing to do yet, and the way he _flinched_ when Arthur touched him. He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t.”

“Let me guess,” Elyan said. “Leon saw too.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Why do you think we’re down here?” Elyan gave Gwaine a pointed look.

Gwaine looked from Elyan to Percival, who nodded.

“He didn’t give him over?” 

No need for Percival to press for a clearer question. He knew exactly what Gwaine was asking – was Merlin safe? As far as Percival knew, the answer was yes. He gave as slow nod.

Gwaine sagged in relief. 

“Are you going to explain?” Arthur stood up against the bars of his cell, arms folded across his chest.

Elyan looked between the king and knight, frowning.

Percival didn’t blame him. He’d asked, once, Elyan’s stance on magic. Neutral, though preventing accusations like his father had died for, Elyan would appreciate. That is, for it no longer to be a crime to associate with sorcerers. 

“What I really want,” the dark knight had huffed, “is for this split between us to go away. If that means playing mediator and writing up laws for magic use, I’ll do that. If it means hunting down Druids, I’ll do that too. I trust Arthur to do what’s right for Camelot, it’s why I follow him, and I’ll do what he asks. But I’ll ask him to consider your sides.”

And Elyan had, considering how they all bonded over a shared goal at Gwen’s. But if Merlin was in the city, and Arthur knew but didn’t say, what was the king hiding? Why would he not share the news that Merlin had come to them, instead of them going to Ealdor? 

Better question, why had Merlin come to Camelot to begin with? Per his letters, he should be in Ealdor today. Waiting.

“Well?” Arthur tapped his foot.

Merlin’s motivation aside, what was Arthur planning on doing with Merlin? With Merlin in the citadel, was Lancelot nearby too? Had the downward spiral he and Gwaine wanted to prevent already started?

Percival shook his head. Too many thoughts. Any more and he’d go in circles. He could wonder about others’ intentions later. Right now, facts were important. Facts and getting out of here. 

“ _We-ll,”_ Arthur was getting impatient.

“What Leon said,” Percival choose his words carefully. The cells around them contained unruly men and women from the previous night still and they all showed interested in the locked up nobility. “Gwaine saw our friend too. Only, he was meeting you.”

“And he didn’t look happy about it,” Gwaine spat out.

“You were seeing things, Gwaine. I haven’t seen our, our friend since the last time you did.”

“And if you had, would you tell us?”

Arthur didn’t answer.

Percival felt guilty at being thankful for the bars. Without them, Gwaine would have no doubt launched himself at Arthur and started another fight. He’d probably lose again. 

“Enough.” Elyan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We can figure out our _friendly_ situation later. Right now, what are we going to do about Leon? We have to convince him he’s wrong. There’s no threat here.”

“Oh, I disagree.” They all turned to look at Agravaine, who had been following the conversation with interest. “The idea that a sorcerer, and one so close to the king, has enchanted all of us in an effort to control the kingdom is very dangerous. I applaud Sir Leon’s actions, despite leading to us being here.”

Murmurs filled the cells. Percival didn’t like this. Forget Leon and the knights against Merlin, turn the entire city into a mob hunting for a single man, and Merlin would be lucky to last three days. 

“Is it true?” a woman asked. “There’s magic in the castle?”

“Yes,” Agravaine answered.

“But it’s Morgana’s,” Arthur quickly countered. “She brought the wolves into the city. And now, sneaks around in disguises.”

A loud clank and the thump of bodies hitting stone made every head turn towards the stairs leading up.

“Come now, dear brother. I don’t sneak around.” Slowly, Morgana descended the stairs. 

Absently, Percival noticed how much she’d changed. She’d snuck into her old chambers, taken an emerald dress, but it hung loosely from her shoulders due to lost weight. Her hair was coarse, her face bronzed from all the time in the sun. When she flicked a hand to open the peasants’ cells, Percival noted callouses. Living in the woods was not the same as living in Camelot’s towers.

“Run along,” Morgana said to the scared town inhabitants. “Unless you want to stay and witness the death of King Arthur.”

Men and woman scrambled for the openings, though a few stayed behind. They watched Morgana with wary, but hopeful eyes. There was something haunted in their gaze and Percival realized it wasn’t just Merlin hiding in Camelot. 

“Please, Morgana. It doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to kill me to get the Camelot you want.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe. See, I want a Camelot free of fear.” She pressed close to the bars of Arthur’s cell. “Do you know what it’s like, to wake up in the morning and not realize what’s happening? To learn people refused to help you because you were different? To not know if this day will be your last?”

“You didn’t look very scared last year, Morgana,” Arthur deadpanned.

“Oh, I knew how to defend myself at that point.” She flicked her fingers at the knights’ cell. 

Percival felt his feet leave the floor, something tight around his neck. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Gwaine and Elyan suffering the same.

“Let them go, Morgana!”

He struggled for three breathes before Percival found himself on the stone floor gasping. By the time he regained his senses, Morgana had opened the door to Arthur’s cell and advanced.

“Camelot will be glorious. We’ll all be equals, but of course magic will rule. It can do so much more, and there’s no other way for us to be safe.” She gathered her hands in front of her, Percival could make out something glowing between them, when something startled her. Morgana’s head snapped up to the ceiling, horror on her face.

“Sister,” she breathed.

She flung the glowing ball in her hands at Arthur and disappeared.

Arthur raised his hands to shield his face, cutting off a scream as the flames ate his hands.

“Arthur!” Elyan rushed to the cell door, but it stayed locked.

One of the men who stayed behind entered Arthur cell. Percival tensed as he noticed the man’s eyes glow gold. Someone who sympathized with Morgana? Instead, between his hands rapidly grew a ball of water. When it hit Morgana’s fire, it hissed and steamed filled the cell.

“Sire!” Percival shouted, unable to see into Arthur’s cell.

“I’m fine,” Arthur called out. 

As the haze faded away, Percival made out the man ripping his own shirt to make bindings. When he finished the last knot, he looked up to speak to Arthur, voice loud enough for the other knights to hear.

“King Arthur, know that Morgana does not speak for all of us. Some prefer your rule.”

“Despite all my father has done?”

“We have faith in the coming of Albion.”

Not just druids then knew of the prophecy.

Arthur nodded at the man and accepted his help standing.

The rest of the cells emptied. Percival didn’t know who would side with Arthur or Morgana. He turned to look at Gwaine.

His friend’s face pointed upwards, the same direction Morgana had looked. “What do you think startled her?”

“Emrys?” Percival guessed.

A sharp suck of air turned everyone’s attention to Agravine. “Emrys can’t be here, he’s supposed to be somewhere else.”

Arthur, now standing in the hallway, turned to look at him. “And how would you know that, Uncle?”

Agravine paled, caught. “I, heard it by accident when I passed a pair of servants.”

“Emrys is here?” the man next to Arthur looked around wildly, as if Merlin stood in the cells with them. “He’s come to defeat Morgana? Start the Golden Age? Fulfill the prophesy?”

The desperate hope in his voice shocked Percival. Gaius had explained the prophecies, and the drudic culture built around them. They’d been waiting for years for Merlin and Arthur to make an appearance and viewed Merlin similar to a god. And he’d been working as a subpar manservant for years.

Every time Percival learned more about Merlin, the more amazed he was. No wonder Lancelot had spoken so highly of him and risked so much to keep him safe.

“Emrys is not here today,” Arthur shook his head. Percival ignored Gwaine’s disbelieving frown. “But soon,” Arthur promised, “soon we will build Albion.”

He’d said the same thing at Gwen’s house. Acknowledged that how Merlin had been forced to live was wrong and no one should have to suffer fear for something they couldn’t control. He gave them a vision that shone so brightly, of knights promoting peace and justice, while magic made the kingdom healthy and hale.

The glow faded, dimmed, and just the other day Gwaine and Percival declared it a sham in an effort to repair broken bridges.

Seeing Arthur make a similar promise to a stranger, in a public space, though sparsely populated, made Percival change his mind. Maybe it was genuine, that promise.

He nudged Gwaine, whose frown flattened to a grim line. He didn’t look convinced, but he also seemed less likely to knock Arthur out.

The sorcerer bowed. He hurried out of sight, coming back with the keys from a guard’s belt. Elyan pushed out of the cell first, eager to check Arthur’s hands. Percival knew the black knight had great knowledge of burns from his forge experience.

Percival’s thoughts were a mess, half convinced Arthur would follow through on creating Albion, half convinced Gwaine was right when he reported Arthur stuffing Merlin out of sight for something malicious. He shook his head. Worries for another time. Right now, they had to deal with Morgana.

When the sorcerer went to unlock Agravaine’s cell, Arthur told him not to.

“Arthur,” Agravaine pleaded. “Surly there is no reason for this.”

“I have a feeling you’ve been reading my mail, Uncle. And even if that’s false, wouldn’t you feel safer down here instead of in the fight above? You’ve never once participated in the knights’ training.”

“Perhaps you are right, sire.” Agravaine took a step back.

With a regal nod, Arthur started for the stairs. 

Elyan stepped in front of him. “Let me go first, Arthur. You can’t hold a sword with those burns.”

Arthur frowned, but allowed Elyan to go first. Gwaine went second, then Arthur and the sorcerer, with Percival at the rear. They passed by the guards slumped on the ground, but breathing.

“Can you care for them?” Arthur asked the sorcerer.

The man nodded. 

“Good. See to it then. Knights, let’s go find Morgana.”

Percival took an unconscious guard’s sword and followed his king.

* * *

Sir Kay rushed forward to place himself between Leon’s prone form and Morgana. His knees trembled, but Gaius gave him points for bravery. As Leon had his sword, Kay held Elyan’s.

“It was me, witch. I killed your bitch sister.” Kay’s voice held steady.

Morgana snarled, sending her fireball at Kay’s chest. With a cry, the knight dropped as his hair and gambeson caught flame.

“For Camelot!” a knight shouted, Gaius thought maybe it was Sir Mors.

Quickly, Gaius retreated to the outer wall. It was tricky, casting the small spells to throw off Morgana’s aim while remaining unnoticed and inching towards Leon. Gaius had always been amazed at Merlin’s magic talents, the sheer power under his skin. Now, he held new respect for his ward’s ability to perform under chaos, read a situation, and use magic effectively. Those small battles he huffed over, Gaius was beginning to think, weren’t as small as Merlin made them out to be.

Even with his machinations, Gaius could tell the knights were preparing for a long battle. Morgause had been a High Priestess, and Morgana had spent near two years under her tutelage. A strong witch versus fifteen knights and five guards? The numbers would overwhelm her eventually, but Gaius expected most of the men to die in the fight.

Finally, Gaius reached Sir Leon. The knight wheezed. Gaius worried a broken rib pierced his lung. If so, there was nothing Gaius could do here. He needed his tools, a sterile environment. The best he could do was drag Leon away from the fight.

With a grunt, Gaius put his arms under Leon’s and stood. Clad in full armor, the red head was heavy and the metal against stone screeched.

It drew Morgana’s attention. 

Gaius felt himself thrown into a pillar.

“I haven’t forgiven you Gaius, for all that you’ve done. You’ll die after Arthur.”

As Gaius struggled to get up, he noticed a knight behind Morgana with a raised sword. His vision was out of focus, he couldn’t tell who it was, but he saw it connect with Morgana’s side. She screeched, casting a spell as she turned. 

Gaius ignored the battle and tried to get back to Leon. As much as Leon had fallen from Gaius’s favor, there was hope in him yet. Additionally, Gaius had seen the signet ring on his right hand. Whatever coup Leon organized, Arthur had gone peacefully and given command to Leon. 

Leon’s death would throw the kingdom into a tizzy. 

Gaius’s head spun, concussed, he knew. He tried to hang onto consciousness as long as possible. A stray spell crashed into a column, tipping it over. Gaius felt it hit and then felt nothing at all.

* * *

Morgana knew, teleporting into the room, the odds were not in her favor. She wasn’t fully trained and the sight of Morgause’s limp body sent her into a red haze.

She broke out of it because a sword slipped around the edge of her shield to scrape her back. Morgause’s voice echoed in her head. Either make your shield a sphere, or be aware of your back. You leave yourself open all the time.

Fifteen, no, thirteen knights stood around her. Two lay dead, one being Sir Kay, and the third, Leon, would be soon. If not by her hand directly, then by his wounds. She could tell how hard he struggled to draw breath.

She sent a heavy wooden chair into a knight, whirling around when she felt another’s magic send it off course. Gaius hovered on the edge of the room. Her anger rose again. It had been his fault Morgause was paralyzed, her magic as injured as her spine. Morgana readied a spell, but an attacking knight made it fly wide.

Numbers had always been her weak point. Even with the sword, she could win one on one by using her opponent’s moves against them, but the tactic required careful observation and execution. Only once, during a training session, had she held off three attackers and that was luck. Now, magic helped, but she knew the same weaknesses applied.

Watching all thirteen knights proved impossible, and her moves were crude efforts of attack and defense, not maneuvers tailored to her opponents. She would lose, but she’d take Camelot down with her.

Morgana planted her feet and drew power through the stones from the earth deep below. She’d kill every single knight if she had to. As she turned, casting, her eyes caught on her sister’s dead body.

This wasn’t what they planned. Force, they knew from experience, didn’t work. Subtly had been the goal here. Have Camelot tear itself apart as it squabbled for a new leader, and then earn the love of the people. A battle with the knights destroyed all that, but she couldn’t let her sister’s death go unavenged.

Morgana flung the spell into the columns near Leon. As she watched them crack and start to fall, she laughed.

“With Arthur dead, and his first knight too, whoever shall rule Camelot?”

A sweep of her arms had her sister’s body fly into her hands. Together with Morgause, Morgana teleported back to the dungeons. 

Kill Arthur. Leave. Don’t be seen.

Except the cells were empty. No citizens driven crazy by the mandrake root powder in the well. No Arthur, betrayed by his own knights. 

In frustration, she kicked an iron bar and instantly regretted it.

“Lady Morgana?”

She whirled around. The dungeon contained one prisoner still. Agravaine. 

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Morgana, you’re bleeding.”

“Where’s. Arthur.”

“I don’t know.” Agravaine’s eyes flicked from Morgana’s face, to the blood on her dress, to Morgause still in her arms. “Is she dead?”

Morgana choked on a sob.

“Morgana, I’m so sorry.”

Of all the times, now she felt the desire to allow Agravaine to give her comfort. Probably, she thought, because no one else would. Shaking her head, Morgana focused on the plan. Morgause had wanted to see Morgana on the throne so much…

Calling forth a bit of magic, Morgana unlocked Agravaine’s cell. He stepped out and Morgana allowed the brief sympathetic touch to her shoulder. 

“For this to work, I need to kill Arthur. If he doesn’t die, there will be no chaos for me to tame.”

“He left but minutes ago. If you hurry, you’ll find him.”

Morgana turned towards the stairs leading up. Finish off her half-brother and then she could burn a boat for her sister. Sadly, she didn’t have the time to find somewhere lay Morgause to rest until then. Gently, she transferred her burden to Agravaine. 

“Keep her safe, for an hour or two. After I kill Arthur, I’ll take her back.”

“As you wish,” Agravaine bowed his head and Morgana sweeped up the stairs.

* * *

Ganeida jumped when the door to the physician’s chambers banged open. In walked Gaius, heavily supported by a knight. A nasty gash bleed into his eyes and he walked with a limp. 

“Ganeida, clear the table,” he said as the knight sat him in a chair.

The girl hurried to obey. Shortly after, two more knights entered baring a stretcher between them. Ganeida recognized this knight. Sir Leon. She gasped and fought the urge to cry. She’d always thought Sir Leon kind and handsome, even if he’d only smiled at her twice.

The knights lifted Sir Leon onto the table and Ganeida scrambled to get what she knew Gaius would need. Rags, to wash the blood. Water, preferably warm, for that too. A separate bucket of water, to adjust medicine with. Clean bandages. 

Despite his injuries, Gaius stood to attend Sir Leon. He’d washed the blood from his face, but missed dried splotches made Ganeida shudder. Gaius looked half dead. 

When the knights who’d brought Gaius and Sir Leon in left, Gaius grabbed Ganeida’s arm. She winced. For being an old man, Gaius fingers held a lot of strength.

“You need to go to the dungeons, Ganeida. Unlock King Arthur’s cell.”

“Why is King Arthur in a cell?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you must tell him to leave Camelot. Morgana is here, she’s the one who did this to Leon, and I’m not sure he’ll survive. If this attack is like her last, she’ll try to take the kingdom by force. There’s no way Arthur can win now. Not when she’s poisoned the wells with a distrust spell.”

Ganeida stared up at Gaius, eyes wide.

“Ganeida!” he snapped. “I need you to do this, please. Find Arthur and tell him. Can you do that? Help Arthur out of the castle?”

Not knowing what else to do, she nodded.

“Good girl, now go.” Gaius shoved her and she stumbled out of the room towards the dungeons.

* * *

“Hold up,” Gwaine said. “I hear crying.”

“Please don’t let the Crone take him, please don’t take the Crone take him.” A young girl, one the verge of tears. Gwaine thought the voice sounded familiar, but couldn’t place it. Still, the Crone was an Old Religon figure, wasn’t it?

Elyan, still leading, gestured them back against the wall.

“Please, please.”

The speaker stepped into view, peaking down the corridor. It was Ganeida, Gaius’s new helper, and she clutched her chest in terror when she came face to face with Elyan’s sword.

“Don’t hurt me!”

Quickly, Elyan lowered the weapon. “Sorry,” he began, but Ganeida hurried around to stop in front of Arthur and drop into a curtsey. 

“King Arthur, Gaius told me to free you from the dungeons and tell you something. But since you’re free-“

“What is it?” Arthur barked. Gwaine shot him a glare. That was no way to talk to a young girl, even if his burns pained him.

“Morgana’s in the castle-“

“We know.”

“Oh.” Ganidea blinked before continuing. “Gaius said you should leave. She, she killed Sir Leon.”

Gwaine felt the words like a blow to the back of the head. He staggered, leaning against the wall. Leon was far from his favorite person, but he never wished the guy dead! Glancing around, he noticed the other knights looked the same. Arthur’s eyes were closed, a grimace on his face.

“You need to leave, before she kills you. You can’t stay, something about poison in the wells not allowing you to win? Gaius said you have to leave. You can’t win.”

“I’m not going to run like a coward.”

“What poison?” Elyan asked. 

Ganidea shook her head. “Gaius said something about a distrust spell, that’s all.”

Gwaine hissed in air. 

“That’s why there’s been so many people in the dungeons these past few nights,” Elyan said. “It’s put everyone on edge, seeing the worst in people.”

Gwaine caught Percival’s eyes and then turned his gaze to the ground. If that was the case, if a spell twisted their thoughts the past few days…

He didn’t know what to think. What had actually been him thinking or the spell. 

“It’s probably why you thought you saw Merlin today, Gwaine,” Arthur said. “And why Leon acted the way he did.”

“Arthur,” Percival said, “if all of Camelot is affected, Gaius is right. We’re most likely to fight ourselves, instead of Morgana. We should leave, at least long enough to clear our heads.”

Arthur’s lips formed a flat line. “Morgana killed Leon. I can’t let that go.”

“Nor can you hold a sword, sire.” Gwaine made sure to use the same sarcastic tone Merlin used. “And, if you remember what Gaius told us not to long ago, it was Merlin and Lance to stopped the immortal army. Not us. Face it Princess, every time Morgana’s been beaten, Merlin’s played a role.”

“And he’s not here now,” Percival added.

Cursing, Arthur kicked the floor. “It doesn’t feel right. I have a duty to my people here to stay and fight, to protect them. I can’t let them suffer through another stint of Morgana’s rule. A week was enough last time.”

“It’s either that, or forever if she kills you, Arthur,” Elyan pointed out.

“I like long odds,” Gwaine said, “But even I won’t take ours right now. Let’s go beg Merlin for help.”

Arthur glared at him.

“You know that’s what your gonna have to do, right? To Lance at least, Merlin was unconscious when you were trying to wrangle his throat.”

“I never would have killed him,” Arthur whispered.

Gwaine didn’t believe that, but he didn’t know if it the thought was his own or belonged to Morgana’s potion, so he kept quiet.

They all stood, waiting for Arthur to make a decision. Gwaine knew logically they had to leave, and Arthur did too. Only stubbornness would have made him  
stay, and well, that had played a part in pushing Merlin away. 

Arthur looked each of his knights in the eye. “We’re leaving, but we’re grabbing Gwen first.”

“Good,” Elyan said.

The king turned to Ganeida, who’d been quietly watching them talk. “What about you?” he asked. “You and Gaius. Come with us.”

Ganeida shook her head. “Gaius is too injured, I think. He’ll need help, for himself and his patients. I don’t think anyone other than me can do that.”

“You’re a strong woman,” Arthur said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She beamed up at him.

“I’ll be like the heroines in the stories, like Airmed.” 

Gwaine shook his head. Ganeida really did like stories. He just hoped hers stayed happy.

“As soon as you can, join us in Ealdor,” Arthur instructed. “Gaius knows where it is. We could use his knowledge, and healers are always in need.”

“I’ll tell him,” Ganeida said. “You should go now. I can take you through the servant passage that exits the citadel near the kitchen door. People are too busy trying to figure out what’s happened, but I’m sure Morgana will strike again soon.”

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't be so long coming! I will say though, it'll have a lot of ground to cover.


End file.
